


The Labyrinth

by ThisBitchIsTired



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, DC Extended Universe, Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, God!characters but no spoilers for you, Human Experimentation, I literally only know wonder woman birds of prey and gotham in dc, I'm building the pantheon back up babies!, Incest, Kind of a given, Lila Valeska's A+ Parenting, Long Captivity, M/M, Multi, Paul Cicero's A+ Parenting, anticopaganda, but figured I'd tag it cuz it does include multiple things from the universe, but it's adorable, extreme fixit au, for the villains, how are those not tags, insanity cuz it's a gotham villain fic, jeremiah is a scaredy cat, tag it anyway, the heroes are gonna hurt, this fic won't stop bothering me so I gotta get it out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26491264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisBitchIsTired/pseuds/ThisBitchIsTired
Summary: Jerome is loose with the Scarecrow and Mad Hatter at his back, with the intention of reuniting with his twin brother, Jeremiah. Detective Jim Gordon is desperate to stop this, but when he fails, the secrets revealed are far more than just Valeska Family drama.So far, the GCPD has only had to fight individual villains, sometimes two or three teamed up. That's about to change.
Relationships: Ecco/Diana Prince, Ecco/Ivy Pepper (Gotham), Ecco/Jeremiah Valeska, Ecco/Jerome Valeska, Jeremiah Valeska/Jerome Valeska, Jeremiah Valeska/Jerome Valeska/Ecco, Jonathan Crane & Jervis Tetch & Jeremiah Valeska, Jonathan Crane & Jervis Tetch & Jerome Valeska
Comments: 20
Kudos: 38





	1. Hiya Broski

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justanothermaniac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanothermaniac/gifts).



> So, I'm writing this first chapter to see if the idea will leave me the fuck alone. If you end up actually really liking it, leave me a comment saying that updating wouldn't be a waste of time.  
> Also, I wouldn't have the courage to post even this first chapter without justanothermaniac's wonderful portfolio that has kept me occupied for many an evening. So even though we've never talked, thank you. You're awesome.

The lights droned, their electric hum never ceasing in the ten years he had been here. Jeremiah kept his eyes open, and counted. Two thousand fifty seven. Two thousand fifty eight. Two thousand fifty nine.  
The door was solid metal, fifteen inches thick. Jeremiah could feel it. He kept counting. Two thousand three hundred one. Two thousand three hundred two. Two thousand three hundred three.  
The glass pressed into his fingers, a few drops of blood dripping down its surface. Jeremiah was used to slowly losing blood. By now it was more the norm than not bleeding was. Two thousand four hundred twenty four. Two thousand four hundred twenty five. Two thousand four hundred twenty six.  
His hair was heavy. It had been a while since they last needed to shave his head for an experiment. The oils weighing it down were a week in the making. Two thousand six hundred thirty. Two thousand six hundred thirty one. Two thousand six hundred thirty two.  
His other hand tapped rhythmically against the ground, his internal count a metronome for the imagined symphony. He could hear the phantom music rising to the moment, like in the movies they would project on the trailers. Two thousand eight hundred forty eight. Two thousand eight hundred forty nine. Two thousand eight hundred fifty.  
Sweat dripped down his spine and he stretched his legs out from their folded position. His hand left a splotch of blood on the ground as he braced himself to standing. The door stared him down. Two thousand nine hundred ninety five. Two thousand nine hundred ninety six. Two thousand nine hundred ninety seven.  
He slicked his hair back further with his blood, he couldn’t get distracted now. Carefully, he pressed his makeshift glasses to his eyes, unfolding the tape and adhering it to his skin. The imperfections in the metal became clear. He breathed, ready. Two thousand nine hundred ninety eight. Two thousand nine hundred ninety nine.  
Three thousand.  
The door buzzed, and swung outward. Jeremiah ran.

Five Years Later

Jim Gordon was having a rough day. Or, had had a rough day more like. It was five minutes past midnight and he’d just barely managed to stop the Mad Hatter from murdering hundreds of people, including his partner. At least they had him in custody now, even if Scarecrow and Jerome were still loose. Speaking of…  
Jim groaned and put his head in his hands. Neither of them were involved in this, and they had broken out of Arkham as a team. Jim would bet his badge that as terrifying, horrifying, and despair inducing as this radio fiasco had been, it had still only been a diversion. His fears were confirmed when a younger deputy called out to him. Two officers had gone to check in with Zachary Trumble earlier in the evening and had reported that everything was fine, but an anonymous call had come in only minutes later, and the two officers had returned to a destroyed diner, the horribly mutilated corpse of Zachary Trumble, and a dead circus strongman.  
He never even made it to the diner, because on his way, he’d received a call from Bruce Wayne. Who had been there. He was at the manor in a record seven minutes.  
“What’s this information?” Jim asked, not even entirely through the door yet.  
Alfred huffed. “By your leave then,” he muttered, decidedly not offering to take the detective’s coat. Bruce only glanced up from his laptop before going back to furiously typing.  
“Jerome was at the diner to get information from Mr.Trumble, not just to kill him.”  
Jim blinked, and stopped in front of the billionaire’s desk. “What information could Jerome want from a dude who works at a diner? Even if he’s his uncle”  
“I thought the same,” Bruce answered mildly, still with a strange laser focus on his screen. “Which was why I didn’t call you until it led to something disturbing.”  
“Wait you were involved in getting the information!?” Jim leaned forward. Bruce feeling an unwarranted responsibility for Jerome and trying to apprehend him was one thing. That would be an age old lecture rehashed, but if the kid was actually torturing someone with said lunatic?  
Bruce rolled his eyes, finally looking up again. “No. But I was fighting Zach’s henchman while Jerome did his thing.” He shook his head, eyes on whatever that fucking device was showing him again. “That’s not the important part though. What’s important is what I picked up. I heard three words: Jeremiah, ten, and night. None of those have produced any results. But Mr.Trumble wrote something on a napkin for Jerome who must have dropped it in his escape.” At this point Bruce pushed what Jim assumed was said napkin toward him. Jim turned it around and tried to read the smudged letters.  
Project Oracle  
John Doe  
Obviously John Doe wasn’t going to be very helpful. “What’s Project Oracle?” he asked instead. Behind him, Alfred closed the door. In front of him, Bruce shut his computer. A weight settled itself onto Jim’s shoulders and poured ice water down his spine.  
“Remember Dr.Strange?” Jim swallowed. “From what I can dig up, this is him on a massive scale.”  
“What? Bringing people back to life en masse?”  
“No.” Bruce shut down his nightmare immediately. Jim was glad. Until he wasn’t. “The more creating monsters side of it. Finding ways to give people above human powers. Multiple labs across the country, dozens of ‘experimental subjects’ at each.” Bruce folded his hands on the desk. “I haven’t managed to find more than that yet, including who runs this project.”  
Jim stumbled back to sit down hard on the couch. His head fell into his hands nearly of their own accord. The news itself was horrendous. Combined with Jerome’s gang looking for it? Getting their hands on these ‘subjects’? Jim needed a vacation.  
“Detective I called you here because your resources are better suited to tracking down the circus Jerome comes from and seeing if any of these words mean anything to them. I hope you are sufficiently motivated to do so quickly?”  
Jesus the kid had changed from that night. But he was right. Now was the time to work with what they had, not panic at what ifs. “Yes. I can do that, but please, Bruce, leave Project Oracle to me too. Stop taking responsibility for this maniac and putting your life in danger.”  
Bruce looked at him. “Alfred will show you out, detective. Thank you for coming.”

Xander Wilde watched the news. He did this every day. Tonight was mainly about the suicide scare the Mad Hatter had plagued Gotham with. But about ten minutes earlier, there had been a snippet about Zachary Trumble and a supposed customer being murdered in the former’s diner. Yesterday it had covered how Jerome Valeska had escaped Arkham.  
“What are you doing?” Xander whispered, not hearing the anchor speaking. “What are you doing?”

Fuming. Fuming was what Jerome was doing. He’d hated his twin for fifteen years for nothing. He wished he’d killed that whore sooner. Wished he’d started cutting on Zachiepoo so he could get his brother back as soon as he woke up alone. He should have fucking known something was wrong when he saw Jeremiah’s glasses on Jerome’s side of the bed. When he woke up with Miah’s blanket on top of himself. When Lila sounded devastated and questioning when he walked into the kitchen without glasses. Yeah, that breathy, “Jerome?” should’ve tipped him right off. He’d been ten. Of course they weren’t scared of his reaction. They were realizing they’d sold the wrong fucking twin.  
And Jerome knew Miah’s glasses and blanket hadn’t ended up where they were by accident. Miah knew. Miah had taken his fucking place on purpose.  
But the worst part was that it wasn’t hard to learn about this ‘Project Oracle’. Not in the underworld of Gotham. Five years ago there’d been a big escape from one of the places and the stories spread. None of them were good and Jerome burned at the knowledge that Jeremiah had gone through anything like what they described. Now that he knew he hadn’t abandoned Jerome of course.  
The best part was the description of the leader of the escape. Every story had that it was a boy, late teens to early twenties, ginger, needed glasses, and insanely smart. So Jerome knew he was out at least. They usually paired him with a blonde chick, same age, fast, and vicious. Subject 06 and Subject 32. The numbers were always the same.  
Now the frustrating part was that that was where the trail ended. The other survivors, well they weren’t easy to track down, but it had been a week and Tetch’s skills were handy. There were seven of them left and all of them were currently enjoying a nonconsensual stay at Penguin’s place. But Miah and 32 were nowhere to be fucking found. Ghosts. Jerome refused to believe that was literal. If it had been anyone else, that ending to this much effort would be hilarious. But this was Miah. Jerome was going to find him alive.  
His phone rang. Pengy. Jerome answered it. “Sup buddy?” He tried to keep the malice he was feeling out of his voice. The former kingpin would definitely betray him when the gas came to light, but until then he was a useful tool.  
“One of them squealed Jerome. They’re in Gotham, and we’ve got the initials XW.”  
A grin peeled Jerome’s face apart. Finally. “How’d that happen?”  
Penguin’s voice was heavily laden with pride when he answered. “Tetch might be great at getting cooperation, but I know the right questions to ask.”  
“Thank you so much Pengy~” Jerome cooed, relishing in the way he knew the man was tensing up on the other end. “I’m coming right back.”

Jim followed the ringmaster of the circus through the maze of trailers. Not only had this man refused to talk over the phone, now he was refusing to talk outside of his insulated trailer. Was it possible to call this certainty of doom simply a bad feeling?  
The trailer itself was nice, taller and slightly wider than most of the others, it was also cleaner. The ringmaster locked the door behind Jim. The detective sighed. “Alright, will you talk now?”  
The man wrung his hands. “The, the words you mentioned over the phone. They were given to you by Jerome Valeska weren’t they?”  
“Yes. Why?” God, this was both promising and so, so foreboding.  
“Jerome has a twin brother. Had. By the name of Jeremiah.”  
Jim sat down on the built in couch. This was. He didn’t know what it was.  
“When they were ten, Jeremiah tried to tell people that their Uncle Zach was abusing them. When we refused to believe his lies, he confessed that Jerome was the true culprit.” Jim couldn’t imagine what growing up with a psychopath like Jerome would do to a person. He wondered what he would have become, if he’d been tied to someone like Jerome. Probably wouldn’t have been this successful. Or maybe he’d be more resilient to the things he’d seen. “It was obvious that it was true. Poor boy had broke bones more often than not, and he flinched at every shadow.” The man sat down next to Jim and wiped his show make up off. “But we didn’t have the money to send the boy off somewhere nice, give him a good life. This circus barely makes it anymore. So we figured we’d get rid of the other one. Jerome.”  
That was weird, Jim noted. For hating and fearing Jerome, the ringmaster was more willing to say his name than Jeremiah’s. Guilt, probably.  
“We were asking around for any orphanages willing to take him, and capable of keeping the shit, when we were approached by someone who said he’d be willing to buy him. Said it would be for a medical study, lifelong study to help understanding of some form of cancer likelihood. Called it Project Oracle, like you said. And the only name he would give us for himself was John Doe. Oh!” he shouted, wringing his hands together and looking to the sky. “This circus, this family, we have to make hard choices for survival all the time! And we knew, we knew that it was something worse than that. Something horrible that he wanted Jerome for, but he offered us thousands to disappear Jerome, and we can’t pass that up. Not when his brother’s safety would also be guaranteed, you have to understand.”  
Jim didn’t. He thought this entire tale was disgusting, but he needed the man to continue. “I understand.”  
The ringmaster, seemingly pacified, nodded and continued, “So we agreed, and he said to bring the kid to a drop off place at night. So we did. We grabbed Jerome and brought him there, and watched John Doe drive off with him in the trunk. Only when morning came, the little kid that came out wasn’t wearing glasses, and he asked us where his brother, where J-, where Jeremiah was, and we realised we’d taken the wrong kid. They’re twins see? Identical. And the glasses were on the other side of the bed they shared. So we covered. We told Jerome what his brother had told us, and said that he’d left, that he was out of the circus and that Jerome could never hurt him again. It was true after all.”  
He stopped talking and didn’t start again for a while. Jim had to wonder why they cared about honesty to the ten year old the entire fucking circus had apparently conspired to sell. He was still trying to figure out a way to reply when the ringmaster finished.  
“We tried to get back in touch with the guy, to tell him we made a mistake, that he had the wrong kid, but the number was dead. The man was just gone.”  
Jim latched onto the only lead he had. “What did this John Doe look like?”  
“Brown hair, tall, about six foot? White. That’s all I remember. Wore a black suit and tie, usually with a hat.”  
Well that wasn’t helpful at all. He didn’t want to get Bruce involved in this, but he’d tried to look up Project Oracle himself before coming here. He’d found nothing. As much as it fucking sucked, he needed the kid. He needed to meet up with him again and exchange new information. “I’ll call if I think you’re in danger, so don’t drop communication,” Jim parted with as he unlocked the door.

Jerome tracked down everyone in Gotham with XW as initials.  
Bruce Wayne tracked the remaining survivors down.  
Jerome found ID pictures for all but one of them.  
Bruce Wayne found a common thread in all of their sudden disappearances.  
None of the IDs fit the description of either of his targets.  
Bruce Wayne met with Jim Gordon.  
Jerome looked into Xander Wilde.  
Jim failed to talk with Penguin.  
Jerome shot up the engineering company and found out about XW’s proxy.  
Jim questioned the survivors and found out Jerome wanted to know about Mr.Wilde.  
Jerome staked out the dust covered apartment of this, Ecco, with friends.  
Bruce Wayne tracked Xander Wilde’s digital transmissions.  
Jerome followed the hypnotized Ecco to a bunker.  
Jim drove out to the coordinates Bruce gave him with Harvey.  
Jerome got there first. He stared up into the security camera as Ecco punched in her code. He smiled and waved. “Hiya Broski!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end bits don't really advance the plot for anyone who has watched the show, (which I'm assuming you have, given that you're reading this fic) so I tried a format that I think feels like a countdown clock ticking away. Does anything not come across well? Anything confusing? Please let me know I am a baby writer and don't really know how to make sure the ideas that are so clear in my head, are actually translating to the page.  
> Leave a comment if you really liked it please!


	2. I Love It (When A Plan Comes Together)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realised that the first chapter might read as Jeremiah being a poor, innocent victim. So I really tried to show what I think his thoughts and motives are really like.

Jeremiah stood at the end of the hallway as the door slid open. Jerome’s ear to ear smile clashed with Ecco’s blank face. His two annoying henchmen stood behind them. The so-called Mad Hatter was the one who’d fucked with Ecco’s mind and likely condemned them all to an early death. Jeremiah would have waited to give his warning if he was in front.   
But he wasn’t. Jerome led the group with arms thrown open wide. “Miah! Come to greet me right away! I knew you missed meeee~” Jeremiah waited until the door had slid shut behind the last of their group, the Scarecrow, to speak.  
“Stop, Jerome.” Jeremiah tossed a rock into the air in front of him. It hit several fizzling barriers as it arced through the air. It landed on the ground with deep marks scored into it, still whole, but only barely. Jeremiah swallowed. He hated doing this. “I have defense mechanisms set up all throughout this maze. If you want to even get back outside alive, you’ll unhypnotize Ecco. Now.”  
Jerome both lost and gained some glee in his expression and Jeremiah did not have the time to figure out how that was possible right now. He did stop moving though, even going so far as to keep his arms upraised. He still cackled before responding of course. Jeremiah would assume it wasn’t actually Jerome if he didn’t. “You surprise me, baby brother. That you would bargain for something so worthless to me now. Tetch, let her go.”  
“One, two, three, wake up!” Tetch snapped his fingers in front of Ecco’s face and she blinked bemusedly. The confusion only lasted for a second before her fist was in the hypnotist’s face.  
“You fucking bitch!” Jeremiah relaxed. She was okay. “I’ll fucking kill you!” Jeremiah flicked off the lasers from the control panel on the wall as Jerome and Crane attempted to hold her back from Tetch. Somehow she had already gotten ahold of a knife, though Jeremiah had thought they would disarm her upon capture. Tetch was screaming. Jerome was laughing. Crane was cursing. Maybe Jeremiah should put a stop to this. They’d need to work together now after all, and a murder wasn’t the best way to start an alliance. Well, not the murder of one of the potential alliance members.  
“Ecco! Let him be!” Jeremiah called. She immediately twisted out of the grip of the two men holding her and started making her way to Jeremiah. Jerome left Crane to pick Tetch up and followed her.   
His voice was simpering as he smiled in a way that looked like he was actively splitting his skin open. “Soooooo, you’ve been out for five years now. Why’d ya hide away out here when I was waitin for ya? Did ya not miss me?” Jeremiah couldn’t see past the calculating intelligence in his twins eyes and he didn’t have to. The truth was all that was needed now.  
“I missed you exactly as much as I figure you missed me. And you know why I didn’t seek you out. It’s the exact same reason I need to make sure nothing you used to track me down could qualify as official.”  
Jerome scoffed and stopped a foot away from Jeremiah. “Nah bro, you know I don’t go in for the legal shit.” Jeremiah snorted. He couldn’t help it. And it broke the dam. Before he knew what he was doing, Jeremiah had thrown his arms around Jerome’s waist and buried his head in his neck. He didn’t know whether he was laughing or sobbing but it didn’t matter, because Jerome’s arms came up to hold him back. A warmth he hadn’t felt for fifteen years sprung back to life in his chest, and spread to very tips of his fingers and toes.   
“Jerome.” He didn’t have anything else to say. Any other words to put to it, but as always, his twin understood. He felt Jerome nuzzling his head and went as close to boneless as he could while staying standing.  
“Miah.” Jerome’s arms tightened around Jeremiah to the point of getting hard to breathe. Jeremiah smiled. Most people couldn’t tell the difference between Jerome’s warning signs and his affection, and maybe he had changed some of them around in the fifteen years since they’d last seen each other. But Jeremiah was willing to bet this one had stayed the same.   
It wasn’t to last though. A buzz sounded in the wall’s embedded speakers and terror shot through Jeremiah. He whipped his head up and tried to get back to the control panel he was at previously. Jerome laughed and didn’t loosen his grip. “Scaredy cat!”  
“Jerome! That means someone is at the door!” His twin wasn’t stupid, and Jeremiah was able to pull the hatch open and look at the security monitor. He still had two arms around his waist and a scarred chin on his shoulder, but he didn’t exactly mind.   
The screen showed Jim fucking Gordon and Harvey Bullock on the threshold. “Fuck.” Ecco said from his left. “The chances of pigs not using official channels to find us is fucking nill.”  
“I ca-” Tetch started, but cut off in a yelp. Jeremiah wouldn’t be surprised if there was a knife at his throat again.  
He sighed. “Ecco.”  
Behind him, Tetch coughed. “Thank you.” His voice came from a bit farther away. “As I was saying, I could dispose of the two.” Jeremiah finally got to look at the full group again as Jerome turned around. Crane was leaning against the wall across from the twins. Ecco was on their right, and Tetch had a hand over his throat and was backing away on the right, toward the door.   
“It would be fun, but it wouldn’t help.” Crane spoke up for the first time. “The problem is that those Oracle people will be coming if they did.”  
Jeremiah swallowed and pushed his glasses up. “Exactly.” His choices were few. He could leave them out there, and assume one way or the other on their methods of finding him. He could assume they hadn’t, and if they had, he would be captured before the day was out, or if they hadn’t, he would live the next months in abject terror. Again. He could assume they had, and go back on the run. If it was true his chances of being caught were extremely high and he would likely have to separate from Ecco to give them both a chance at freedom. If it wasn’t true, he would needlessly spike the amount of danger he was in and give up the best safe haven he’d ever had. He could let them in. The longer he delayed that the more chance any Oracle followers of theirs would be waiting when he did. If they came in and the legion was in sight, it wouldn’t end well and Jeremiah definitely wouldn’t get his information. If they came in and the legion were not in sight, Jeremiah might just be able to find out what he needed and send them on their way. “Jerome I need you to let go now.”  
“Miaaaaaaaah~” Jerome protested but did as he was told. At least until he snatched Jeremiah’s hand in a death grip. It was good enough. Jeremiah just needed the ability to run.   
“Ecco, sixty seconds after we leave you’re going to let the detectives in and guide them to the planning room. I’m going to lead you three to the game room, and then I’m going to meet with the detectives and see if we’re all in immediate danger.” He made a point to stare Jerome, who looked rather annoyed at the plan. “If they see any of you, it will turn into a shoot out, and we will lose any hope of knowing whether or not Oracle is coming.” Jerome pursed what was left of his lips, but did gesture to lead the way. Jeremiah would count it as a temporary win. “Come on, this way!”   
Jeremiah took off, hand in hand with Jerome. Tetch and Crane followed, after Tetch waited for Ecco to pass him, flattened against the wall. It took them five minutes to get to the planning room at a sprint. Four minutes since the police were let in. It took closer to fifteen to make one’s way through the place at a walk. Eleven minutes. Jeremiah tore through the pile of boxes in the adjacent closet. Eventually, he found the one he was looking for and snatched a rolled up blueprint from within it. It took three whole minutes thanks to him Only Having One Hand to work with.  
He shoved the blueprints at Crane. He seemed the most likely one to stay on track and not get distracted by a dust mote. “Jerome I need my hand back.”  
“Aw, but bro, I love holding it so much!”  
Jeremiah’s eyes flashed. Seven minutes left. As much as Jerome liked to play at the ‘psychopath without morals’ shtick, Jeremiah had kept track of him since escaping. He never hurt his allies unless they betrayed him. The security footage showed him taking up the challenge the cannibal gave him, but Jeremiah didn’t need the boss title. He just needed Jerome and gang to leave. Jeremiah dug his free hand into his pocket and flipped out the knife he kept on himself at all times. Jerome’s head jerked back but Jeremiah wasn’t going for the throat. He placed the blade against the back of Jerome’s fingers. “Let go or I will slice your tendons and you won’t have a choice about it.”  
Jerome’s eyes widened in shock and he started to giggle. “Broski, I didn’t think ya had it in ya~ Can I just say I am so pro-”   
“Three.”   
Jerome blinked, losing his smiled at the interruption.  
“Two.”  
Jerome let go and stepped back holding his hands up in a mock surrender when Jeremiah didn’t put the knife away. “Woah Miah, still so feisty.”  
Jeremiah ignored him and turned to Crane. “Those are the plans to the bunker. Get yourself and them to the game room. It’s pretty close to the exit. If the lights go red, get out.” Crane’s head tilted, the mask making a weird slithery sound as it moved.   
“And if they don’t? I take it there is a plan.”  
“You’re following the twerp now?” Jerome shrieked.  
“In the grand majority of possible futures, I will come to you and we’ll either stay here or leave together.” Six minutes. “Now go!”  
Crane turned to leave and Tetch pulled on Jerome’s suit to get him to leave as well. “It’s time to go, else we’ll run into the Ecco!”  
When they were out of the room, Jeremiah set to putting everything back to rights in the closet. Four minutes. After closing the doors, Jeremiah had nothing to do but contemplate what the two detectives being here meant on its own. Even if they hadn’t used official channels, they were officials. Two people who owed no loyalty to Jeremiah, his brother, or Ecco, who knew who he was and where he was. When he’d said ‘dispose of’ earlier he’d meant that he would get the detectives to leave and if necessary, knock them out and have Ecco dump them somewhere. But that might not truly be a viable option. Jeremiah needed to know if anybody else knew about him, and if anybody else knew that the detectives knew. If not, killing them would be the easiest and safest course. If so, things could get very complicated. Jeremiah needed a drink, but of course he couldn’t afford its effect right now. Things always worked out that way for him.  
And if Oracle was coming, how to deal with it? He couldn’t get lost in the crows like he usually did. Other people as distractions and obstacles. That was the option he’d given up when he’d gone for ‘untraceable’. At least it was supposed to be untraceable. Supposed to be permanent too. Jeremiah had a sinking feeling that promise wasn’t going to be delivered on either.   
He sighed and headed over to the table to at least appear as if he had been working when the police arrived. One minute. He flattened the sheet that happened to be on top of the current pile. The plans for his generator, his next step in disconnecting from the outside world, stared up at him. A plan that fit several eventualities started forming in his head. He scribbled down directions for Ecco as fast as he could. He’d just folded them up and palmed the paper when Ecco walked in with the guests.   
His eyes flicked up to the clock without changing his posture. 4:53. Perfect. He straightened and turned, shaking Ecco’s hand first with his best ‘congenial businessman smile’. “Thank you Ms.Ecco. You can clock out early today.” Her face didn’t change as she slipped the paper into her sleeve and left. That was what made him pick her out in the labs. She caught on quickly and didn’t question his plans before obeying, just assumed he’d done his thinking already.  
And now it was time for the pigs. He turned to them. The duo who repeatedly inserted themselves into his twin’s story. Who had first gotten him locked up, which set him up to be used, then were directly involved in his killing, then knocked his face off into a puddle and got him locked up again. They were also both armed with pistols and Jeremiah had a knife.   
Jeremiah smiled and extended his hand. “Detective Gordon and Bullock I presume? How exactly did you manage to find me?”   
Gordon smiled self-deprecatingly. Jeremiah hated him more.  
“Jerome did most of the work. You know he’s after you right?” Bullock spoke up.   
Ah, yes. Jeremiah could work with this. He let his smile fall slightly and shivered. “Yes, I do. Though if you’re simply using the breadcrumbs he creates, he must be rather close as well.” He wiped his face completely blank and stepped back. For a final touch, he clasped his hands behind his back, and gave his shoulders the slightest tension. Just enough to let the officers know he was hiding his shaking hands. “I assume you know that he is not the only entity I am hiding from. Did you use any official channels to find me?”   
“I researched Project Oracle with the GCPD’s resources.” The answer came quickly from Detective Gordon. Now Jeremiah wasn’t faking his shaking hands. He braced himself on the table. Oracle was coming. Alright. Jeremiah had already figured out part of a plan for them. He needed a time table to figure out the rest.   
“When?” He forced out between clenched teeth. “When did you do that?”  
Gordon straightened farther than he already was. An air of repentant righteousness about him. Jeremiah itched to strangle him even with a hand of terror around his own throat. “About a week ago.”  
The blood drained from Jeremiah’s face. A week ago. A week. Between one moment and the next, he was at the bank of monitors along the far wall, switching all of them on. He pulled up the outside security cameras just in time for three white, unmarked vans to pull up to the entrance. Jeremiah choked, and embarrassingly let out a whine at the sight. Now he’d have to kill the detectives simply because they were witness to that. Well, with his barebones plan, given Ecco moved quickly, the easiest way to do that would be to leave them in the maze.   
He didn’t bother giving them a goodbye. He just slammed the release button hard enough to break it and dashed out. Unfortunately, they were fast enough to follow him through the door. If they managed to get all the way out he would need plausible deniability. Alright. “Don’t fall behind!” he called out over his shoulder, before immediately speeding up around a sharp corner.   
“Goddamnit this kid!” he heard from Bullock. Typical. It might be uptight of him, but Jeremiah was one of the people who felt that if you needed to swear to make a point, it wasn’t a very strong point. The good part was that his voice already came from farther back. Jeremiah might not be athletically fit, but he knew this maze, and anticipation of movements would always work in his favor here. He’d be sad to see it go.  
Back in the planning room, the monitors showed a large group of people in white uniforms that resembled hazmat suits. Two of them held a large device between them. Another, stood apart in a separate group of three, gave them a nod. The device was touched to the door. It blew off its standings and fell inward with an ominous toll. The lights in the bunker turned red.  
Jeremiah grit his teeth. He’d hoped it would take them longer to knock down the door. Quickly, he switched direction and ran past the detectives. “Wha- Oh come on I thought you knew this maze!” Ugh, he needed to reply to them to keep up the facade, didn’t he?  
“Objectives have changed detectives!” Three corners back, he skidded to a stop and pulled open a control panel. With shaking fingers, he keyed in the full defense code. He’d have to time his runs through corridors from now on, but hopefully, given they had the map and were close to the exit, Jerome and his friends were already out. He hit enter.   
At the end of the corridor, a blue light lit up in the wall. It had its match in the opposite wall. Jeremiah sprinted past the detectives again. Behind him, the lights started moving. Unfortunately, the cops followed him and did not fall afoul of that particular trap. Jeremiah had to slow down and dance over the correct tiles in the next hall. Again, Gordon caught on and was not impaled. Bullock followed his lead. It was beginning to look like Jeremiah would have to shoot them in the head if he wanted them dead. How tedious.   
Ecco was waiting for him in his bedroom. The exact center of the maze. She had followed his instructions to the letter, and the prototype generator stood in the middle of the room. Ecco had also packed two suitcases of things for them both. She truly was the most competent person he’d ever met. Jeremiah first went to the safe, unlocked it, and grabbed a single leather drawstring bag. He left it open. The contents would survive the blast if he didn’t. Having seen to the only thing Ecco hadn’t, Jeremiah crossed the needed wires in his device and flipped the switch. The bottom ring started to glow blue. Eleven minutes.   
“Move!” Jeremiah screamed. They had to get to the garage. Well, Ecco and him had to. He grabbed a small, black, device off the dresser by the door on his way out. A radio that transmitted a specific combination of signals that shut off all his traps in a twenty foot radius. A secure enough safety measure. He only needed the traps to slow the encroaching party down for long enough after all. The bedroom door slid closed behind the group. “Shoot the controls.” Gordon did so. Jeremiah guessed there was one use to cops.  
He and Ecco took off at the same time. She was faster than him, always had been, even carrying two heavy suitcases. Even once she got out of the radio radius. If she was only carrying one suitcase, she could use the other hand to carry Jeremiah and still be faster. That wasn’t even an educated guess on his part. She’d saved his life a few times by doing that already. Her athletic prowess was one of the reasons he still included her in his planning when it was an option. She could see possibilities he just couldn’t. For example, he would see that he had to step on specific plates to avoid being impaled. She would just run on the wall.  
None of that helped him ditch the detectives. But it did help him emotionally deal with their presence.  
The only snag came when they reached the garage at the end of the labyrinth. They went down the staircase instead of up to get there. They’d never make it far enough away in time if they went on foot. Only the garage had more than just Ecco and his car in it. The entire Legion of Horribles was waiting there too. Jeremiah’s eye twitched out of his control. The detectives automatically moved in front of him. “You didn’t really think you were gonna escape me that easily didya?” Both groups raised guns.   
“We do not have time for this. I set a bomb, there is No! Time! Anyone who wants to live, get in the car!” Jeremiah pushed past the detectives but kept a wide berth from the Horribles. It might be useful to take up the appearance of being a ‘poor innocent hostage’ as well as ‘poor innocent child experiment’. Appearing weak was a useful tool. Jeremiah was experienced in wielding it. An expert, really.  
He slipped into the shotgun seat of the truck. Ecco had already taken the driver’s seat. The Horribles claimed the backseat as Ecco gunned it. The detectives had no choice to jump on the back.   
“Well this is fun. Road trip!” Jerome crowed. Jeremiah whipped around, only to see that he was staring down a gun. He raised his hands as best he could. “So, if you needed a car to get out, why did you tell us to just run?”  
“Because Jerome,” Jeremiah hissed. “If you had run when the lights turned red, like I told you. You would have been able to get far enough away on foot.”   
A heavy thumping came at the same time as Jim Gordon’s muffled voice. Everyone but Ecco turned to look at the back windshield. Bullock was stolidly attempting to break through the glass by pistol whipping it while Gordon had his gun pointed at Jerome’s head through the barrier. “Put it down Jerome or I will shoot!” Jerome stuck out his tongue and pressed the muzzle directly against Jeremiah’s head. Jeremiah ducked as far as he could as Gordon delivered on his promise.   
Ecco swerved as she did her best to drive while dodging the fire both cops, and two of the villains were engaging in. “Fuck!” Jeremiah guarded his head with his arms and contemplated how Ecco had become the only person who could swear in his presence without lowering his opinion of them. How far out were they now? How long had it been? He’d lost track when he realized that Jerome! And his gang! Had stuck around! And were now in a shootout in his car! His! Only! Car!  
He checked his watch. His eyes widened. He went back to guarding his head.  
Three.  
Two.  
One.  
The explosion rippled the earth beneath the car and sent it flying. Jeremiah counted his ribs as they bruised. By the end of the roll, five. But none broken. Good. His wrist was sprained, but he had avoided whiplash. He turned to check on Jerome. Ecco was already out of the car and coming to get him out as well. She could take care of herself.   
Jerome was staring back at him, grinning. “That was fun, shall we do it again?” Jeremiah glared. Jerome sighed. “Fine, I got a place we can go to now. I assume you don’t.” Jeremiah would never admit how much the accuracy of that pissed him off. Ecco might be the only who he could stand swearing, but Jerome was the only person who tempted him to swear. Gordon and Bullock were obviously on the ground somewhere. Tetch had been knocked out by the crash, but his eyelids were already twitching open and closed slightly. Jeremiah couldn’t tell much about Crane, but his chest was rising and falling. All alive. Good.  
He gladly accepted Ecco’s help in getting out of the wrecked vehicle. Just as he was dusting himself off, Tetch came tumbling out of the car, closely followed by Jerome, who had obviously pushed him. “Sorry Jervis, need to call our ride.” He dug in his newly accessible pockets and drew out a phone that was miraculously unscathed. He flipped it open and pressed a single number. “Pengy~!” So his brother had the Penguin on speed dial. Interesting.   
Jeremiah looked around at the destructive path their car had left and started down it. No need for loose ends. There was a ninety-eight percent chance that the impromptu flight had killed both detectives, but Jeremiah liked certainty. They’d rolled a good ways unfortunately, and their bodies could have been flung for quite a distance in any direction at any point. There was a lot of ground to cover. Then again, he had time if he assumed the Penguin was procuring their ride from Gotham.   
He found the two relatively close to each other. Only thirty meters apart. Neither were moving and both were rather bloodied. Gordon was closer. Jeremiah moved to stand over him. He definitely didn’t look alive. Jeremiah knelt down and flipped the detective onto his back with a bit of effort. That done, he placed his fingers on Gordon’s neck, and found a pulse. Pity, he’d have to slit his throat. Jeremiah looked around for a sharper rock. Nobody would question that. He glanced back down at Gordon for a second only to see the detective’s eyes slightly open. He froze. It was always annoying when they begged. And if they were awake, they always begged. Gordon eye’s fluttered shut. Jeremiah shrugged, and continued scanning the ground.  
He scanned the ground before, of course, Jerome slipped an arm around his chest and hauled him up. “Come on little brother, our rides’ here!” Jeremiah slumped. If Jerome was going to manhandle him, he’d make his twin manhandle deadweight. Jerome just laughed.   
On the ground, Jim Gordon kept breathing.


	3. Welcome to the Party (It's gonna be a riot)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. My Calc class spreads midterms out across months and I've been prepping for the first one which is tomorrow.  
> Also, there are enough cis men, enough straight people, enough neurotypical people, and enough white people on this show that I'm not adding anymore with my OCs, so suck it.

Oswald Cobblepot was having a day. He wasn’t yet qualifying it as good or bad, but it certainly a lot of whichever one it was. One the one hand, he’d gotten choked out by Butch twice within a few hours. Oh the other hand, Butch had agreed to join him, and Penguin had some, practically invincible, muscle on decidedly his side. Not Jerome’s.  
On the one hand, Jerome had been gone most of the day so Oswald could actually think without the maniac literally breathing over his shoulder. On the other hand, he was alone for a good portion of the day with the rest of the, slightly less terrifying, maniacs that listened to Jerome not him. But not anymore. Now he had Butch as a barrier against them.  
Of course, right when he’d gotten those sorted out, Jerome had called for a ride and Penguin had had to send Butch to steal a car and pick them up. This had happened right after a massive explosion had breached the Gotham skyline. Oswald was ninety nine percent certain Jerome was the cause of that too.  
Now he was watching the party pull into the driveway. Apparently there hadn’t been room for everyone in the car, as Jerome was sitting on the window of the shotgun seat, legs inside the car and torso out. Oswald worried for a second whether the inconvenience would trigger more violence he’d have to avoid. But no, that looked like a happy grin, not a menacing one, even with the distance between Oswald’s perch and the view. Wait, was that an arm around his waist? It was too late. They were pulling into the garage and Oswald lost sight of the car before he could confirm. He sighed. He headed down to meet the enlarged group.  
At least now he would meet this mysterious superpowered ally. He wondered if their abilities would be more like Fish’s, not as flashy but only needing herself, or more like Bridget and Fries, who had immunities now, but needed tech to really use those differences. Also, the woman who followed him. That car had room for five, and Butch plus the Lunatic Trio would only make four, so to make Jerome hang out the window, she had to be with them too. Subjects eight and thirty two.  
Oswald actually got all the way down to the door of the garage before he saw them. Annoying. Now he’d have to walk all the way back too. He probably should have just waited, but he really wanted to see what was so great about these people.  
The door slammed open to show Butch standing there, steaming like an angry bull. It was evident why. Jerome Valeska was sitting on his shoulders and crowing with laughter. Oswald grimaced. How did this man have so many allies? Butch was going to commit murder soon by the looks of it, and Oswald bet himself and Jerome were numbers one and two on his list. He smoothed over his anger before he spoke. Staying politely cordial was the best way to keep Jerome’s attention off you.  
“Welcome back. I assume the errand was a success?” Jerome made eye contact with him and Oswald fought back a shudder.  
“Oh was it!” With an incredibly casual flip, Jerome was off Butch and standing on his own again. Butch shot him a thankful look. Well, he hadn’t planned that effect, but Oswald would take the gratitude. A mutual tolerance of Jerome might help keep Butch under his thumb.  
Then Oswald wasn’t thinking about Butch anymore, because Jerome was reaching behind him and pulling somebody out by their arm. A somebody, that looked exactly like pre-scar Jerome. If he was carrying wine, Oswald would have dropped it. As it was, he had to settle for dropping his jaw. “Miah and I are finally a duo again!” The hallway dimmed and brightened around him.  
Oswald shrieked. “What!” He wasn’t sure what he was questioning, but he was definitely questioning it. “What?”  
“Hello.” Jerome’s twin looked vaguely apologetic. “I’m Jeremiah Valeska, and you must be Oswald Cobblepot, the Penguin.”  
This? Was Jerome Valeska’s twin? He struggled for words in the face of this surprise. He needed to say something nice, always stay nice around Jerome. “I am, you’re correct, and much more polite than your brother.” He’d meant it as a compliment for Jeremiah, but almost immediately regretted it when Jerome puffed up slightly with a widening grin. Before Oswald could figure out how to backpedal, Jeremiah had already done it for him by turning his words around.  
“Yes, Jerome is better at cutting through the bullshit.” Jeremiah’s eyes were cold, and Oswald was reminded of the disappointed look his mother would give him when he did something stupid. “Though that often makes the purveyors of bullshit uneasy.”  
“Yeah, Pengy. Don’t try any bullshit with me!” Jerome laughed, pulling Jeremiah further into the house and latching an arm around Oswald as well. “Love your new henchman by the way. Real Frankenstein of a brute.” Oswald purposefully did not swallow. It wouldn’t do to show fear with one of Jerome’s hands so close to his throat. He needed to reply to Jerome, stall him until his attention flitted somewhere else again. Always agree  
“He is quite useful in a fight, was champion of the rings down in the Narrows.”  
Jerome shrugged. “Never been, but I’d bet it’s great to watch him. Hey!” He spun around, letting go of Oswald for a second. The former kingpin seized the opportunity and stepped as far away as he could get in the narrow hall. Jeremiah wasn’t so lucky and Oswald eyed Jerome’s tight fisted grip in the man’s jacket with pity. “You should fight some of the staff! That’d be fun!” Butch looked furious at the suggestion, and Oswald was once again beaten to the punch of curbing Jerome’s fancy.  
“Real violence will be here soon enough. Why waste time setting up play fights?” Jeremiah asked, in a bored sounding drawl. Well that wasn’t going to work. Questioning Jerome only made him more likely to keep going-  
“Eh, fair enough.” Oswald had to stop his jaw from dropping again. It worked. “So when will those cronies show up to get killed again?” Jerome twirled several times before settling on walking further into the house. Now he had an arm over Jeremiah’s shoulders and curving around his neck. Oswald had to admit, he admired the composure the meeker twin was managing to keep.  
“At least two days from now, and definitely by the end of the week.” Oswald backtracked through what he had heard to figure out what they were talking about. Wait-  
“Wait, are you saying you’ve already run into Project Oracle? And that some of them will be coming to my house by the end of the week?” Maybe Oswald should just take his chances with the police!  
Jerome grinned and ruffled Jeremiah’s hair. His twin hissed and batted at his hand. Jerome switched to giving him a noogie. “Yup! Baby bro here blew ‘em up with a improvised bomb!” Oswald blanched.  
“That giant explosion was you? And it was on the spot?” No wonder so many people were after this man. Oswald would pay a fortune to have that skill under his command. Maybe he could exploit their shared wariness of Jerome?  
Jeremiah readjusted his glasses now that Jerome had finished his noogie. “Not quite. I built a powerful electric generator that was going to power my home, and simply wired it to overload when the crisis presented itself.”  
“So humble! Take the credit Miah~” Jerome paused, a finger to his lips, thinking. Oswald tested if he could press himself further into the wall to get away from him. A thinking Jerome always ended in pain. A fast as it had dropped, his grin was back. “Yup! You’re gonna build a bunch more of those for us!” Oswald shivered at the thought of Jerome with multiple of those explosions to do with as he pleased. He didn’t have any clue how to derail that thought, so he turned to Jeremiah, who had already proven adept at controlling the maniac. He’d do something to stop that horror from coming to pass.  
What he did was snort. “Unless you’ve got highly specialized manufacturing equipment or Sami in this house, that’s not exactly happening.”  
“I can get you equipment, but what’s sami?” Jerome asked, more serious and somehow not offended. Oswald didn’t fucking understand how Jeremiah did it. The Penguin was definitely staying by his side as long as Jerome was in the house though. It seemed to be the safest place.  
Jeremiah smiled slightly at his brother. “Not a what, a who. Sami was one of the people who escaped from Oracle with me.” He pulled a cloth from an inner pocket of his suit and set to polishing his glasses, which Oswald noticed were fractured. That would be an easy way to ingratiate himself into the apparent genius' good graces. He just needed to find out his prescription. “And what else can you get me?”  
Jerome’s smile turned predatory as he leaned in to Jeremiah, nose and forehead almost touching his twins’. Oswald looked around for the closest door out of their current hallway. It was to the living room. He edged toward it on the likely chance that Jeremiah had finally fucked up in handling his brother. “Anything you want. I’m the boss after all.” And like a lightswitch, Jerome was back into his playful stance of before, arm lazily slung around Jeremiah’s shoulders while his hand had a vice grip on Jeremiah’s arm. “And in that case, Sami’s in the basement. We tracked all the others done to find you and we haven’t let them go yet.”  
“What!” Jeremiah spun on his brother, who was now giggling. “Do you realize how much that improves our chances against Oracle?”  
Jerome shrugged, still effortlessly maintaining an iron grip on his twin who now actually wanted to go somewhere. “Not really, and I want you all to myself for a bit~” Oswald shivered at the fleeting images that accompanied what Jerome could want somebody alone for. All of them involved a lot of blood. “They can wait, can’t they?” the maniac cooed, drawing a gloved finger down Jeremiah’s face, where his scars would be if they still mirrored.  
They turned slightly, so that Oswald couldn’t see Jeremiah through Jerome’s back, and he looked to the rest of the group to see if he could glean any information from their expressions. The hallway was empty. Apparently, they had all taken the chance that not being physically attached to Jerome gave them, and scarpered earlier.  
“Great!” Oswald realised he’d actually zoned out at the realization that he was alone with the twins and swallowed. What had he missed? “Ozzy, be a dear and go untie them?” Thankfully, he didn’t need whatever he’d missed to follow that order and save his hide. It was also a much welcomed excuse to gtfo. He shot an apologetic look over his shoulder to Jeremiah as he left. Oswald didn’t know enough about the man to read the flash that went across his eyes.  
He leaned against the wall once he was out of sight, letting out a relieved sigh. He was never sure if he’d make it to the next minute when around Jerome, and if he had a better alternative he’d leave in an instant. Though, he might actually be able to use the situation to his advantage with the buffer it looked like Jeremiah was shaping up to be. Penguin almost felt a smidge of guilt for using the, clearly traumatised, genius as a shield. Almost.  
But all of that was besides the point. He had a job to do if he wanted any shield to be even slightly effective. Time to head to the basement. The stairs were easier with his cane, and he was glad he’d finally conceded to use it. (Even if the major reason was so that he had a weapon against Jerome on hand at all times) This would be quick, simple, and easy. All it took was ordering the guards to let them go and escort them upstairs to the Scarecrow. All people would stay accounted for, and the responsibility would be off his shoulders.  
But of course it couldn’t work out that way. Oswald had never caught a break in his life. A woman, who Oswald had never seen before, was already down there with Butch. They were trying to get past the inmates-turn-guards without violence unsuccessfully. “Butch?”  
His muscle turned at Oswald’s call. A good sign at this point. “Oswald! Will you tell these shits to let us through?”  
Oswald stopped a few steps from the scene and raised his eyebrow. “And who is us?”  
“I’m Ecco, Jeremiah’s friend. And you are keeping our allies locked up! Now let me through or I will snap the neck of everyone here!”  
Well this wasn’t exactly a hard decision. No doubt she would tell Jeremiah whether he cooperated with her or not. She also had a bearing he recognised most closely from Tabitha. Meaning she could prove to be useful to him too, as muscle. Oswald nodded at the guards.  
“Let them through.” The former inmate, his name started with a G Oswald was certain, shrugged and unlocked the vault door.  
“Fuckin’ weak ass bitches! Back for more huh? Still up shit creek!?” greeted the group. The woman, Ecco, laughed as she practically danced in.  
“Marcy! It’s good to see you again!”  
Cries of ‘Holy shit!’ ‘Fuck!’ ‘Yes!’ and ‘Oh my fucking god!’ were immediate.  
“Where have you been? Is he with you? How did they manage to catch you?” A black woman asked, leaned as far forward as she was able to be in her ‘tied to a chair’ state.  
Ecco flicked her hair over her shoulder as she set to work freeing the closest person, a wide middle eastern who had nearly escaped on his own multiple times. “Well, Top Hat did hypnotize me.” She was interrupted by a several groans of commiseration. “But Jay fixed that.”  
“Of course he did.”  
“Typical.”  
“So why the fuck are you here?”  
Oswald watched warily as the giant stood up and rolled out his shoulders. For as strong as he was, he was short, barely 5 foot 3 inches. Oswald still got ready to run. He referred to the man as 'giant' in his head because of the force of his swings in one of said breakouts. Ecco had already moved on to freeing the next, an east asian woman who was overly fond of swearing, and who had more bonds on her chair than the others for a reason. She was taller than the giant when standing, and more vicious. “The Rets showed up and we all had ta scram togetha’. Don’t worry tho, Jay blew ‘em up.”  
“So he’s here?” Giant asked, calloused fists pausing their stretching in anticipation. “He’s really here?”  
Ecco turned for a second to smile at him, and Oswald had to wonder how Jeremiah (he assumed Jeremiah was ‘Jay’) had made such an impression on this group. “Yup! He’s upstairs with his twin.”  
“He found Jerome then! That’s wonderful!” Jeremiah had been looking for Jerome? That didn’t make sense. Not even in the purely objective view. Jerome had been at Arkham for a while, his location well known and unchanging. Nevermind that nobody in their right minds would actually seek Jerome out. The speaker had been another east Asian looking person, but they had spoken with a Russian accent. They had a habit of making sexual innuendos to throw off their interrogators.  
Ecco laughed as she finished unbinding the woman. “Actually, Jay found him right away and left it alone. This was Jerome finding Jay.”  
Just Freed scoffed, “Of course it was Jerome finding Jay. Only way Jay would take a whole half decade to find someone would be if he were tracking down the Buddha himself.” As Ecco moved on with another laugh and agreement, and to untie innuendo lady, Just Freed Lady stalked over to Oswald, who quickly backed up until he hit a wall.  
“Now, whatever your grievance,” Oswald started. The lady raised an eyebrow. Okay so her grievance was pretty obvious. “I’m sure we can resolve the matter without violence. I’ll get you all your possessions back just don-” He was cut off by her snatching his tie and pulling. Oswald closed his eyes and got ready for the feeling of being strangled. It was becoming a much too familiar feeling lately.  
But it didn’t come. One second his tie was pulling at the back of his neck, and the next it was gone. After two whole seconds of nothing happening, he opened his eyes again. Just Freed was finishing using his tie as a hair ribbon for a ponytail. She was smirking. “You’re amusing when you’re desperate, fucktard.” Oswald wanted to stab her. Unfortunately, he was more scared of Jerome than he was angry at her. More unfortunately, he couldn’t think of a retort that wouldn’t likely get him killed.  
“Marcy, leave the stupid bird alone.” Giant came to his rescue. Insultingly.  
“But he’s so funny~” Marcy, apparently, sing-songed. “And I want to see him writhe for what he did.” Her voice plummeted to a growl, and Oswald realised that she was more like Jerome than any sane person would like. That comparison was strengthened when she started twirling a butterfly knife between her fingers on her way to free another (Oswald didn’t know, some kind of pacific islander maybe?) woman despite not having a weapon when tied up, and not being around anyone other than Oswald afterward, and he didn’t carry balisongs.  
The Russian lady was already completely untied by Ecco, Giant had released two on his own as well when Oswald wasn’t looking. Which meant that he was sidling over to Butch now that all but one of the eight superpowered people in the room (all of whom he had ‘interrogated’) were free to move around.  
Alright, give them an incentive to not kill him right away. Food was usually a powerful motivator. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll follow me to the kitchens, you can all get some lunch.” He quickly spun and started off, in order ensure that Butch would be behind him, and thereby a barrier between the Penguin and former prisoners. Behind him, a light chatter started up, and Oswald did his best to listen. None of them were particularly favorable towards him, but that was to be expected. He didn’t need them all to be anyway. They seemed to follow Jeremiah, or were willing to follow, Jeremiah to a fault. All Oswald needed was to ensnare him, and Oswald already had several possible plans for that.  
No, the only revelation Oswald got from listening to the small talk, was more of a reminder. The laughing comment of, “Jay’s at it again.” when the lights flickered. Jeremiah, the key, the main cog in his current survival plan, was powered too, and Oswald had no idea how. Oswald had no idea what any of these people could do. Butch might not be enough a barrier if mayhem broke out, even with his current practical invincibility.  
They could be a massive threat, or a massive boon. Oswald needed Jeremiah’s ear, and he needed it yesterday.


	4. You Loved Me (You Left Me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerome and Jeremiah have a chat

“That’s going to be a nuisance.” Jerome raised an eyebrow at his brother.  
“Oh?”  
Jeremiah sagged into him and Jerome couldn’t help the ripple of satisfied pride that caused. “Pretending to be manipulated by Cobblepot.” Jerome couldn’t see Miah’s face due to it being nestled in his neck, but he could still sense the eye roll. “He’s terrified of you, you know. I give him me as a buffer and he just might not betray us.”  
God, Jerome loved how crafty his baby bro was. Even when they were kids, he was a mastermind. Jerome would complain about not being able to steal cookies and Miah would casually say that Zach went on a smoke break every day at precisely 12:17 pm. And the next day Jerome would grab them both cookies. Jerome squeezed him tighter for a sec. “Awww, thanks for your terrible sacrifice.” There was the eye roll again. Jerome smirked.  
His room was coming up on the left, and Jerome debated telling Jeremiah that, but decided his surprised face was just too cute to pass up. So Jerome let him stay snuggled up until they were right in front of the door. Then he shoved him through it.  
“Jerome!” Jeremiah’s high pitched screech was peak comedy as he flailed on his way to the floor. Jerome couldn’t have held back his laughter if he tried. And he absolutely did not. There was a fluffy rug in front of the door after all. It’s not like Miah’d get hurt.  
“Constant vigilance broski!” Jerome forced out between guffaws, referencing one of Miah’s favorite books (at least when Jerome was still around to listen to him read). Jerome watched Jeremiah climb back to his feet. His lips were twitching. He found it funny too, he was just too prideful to admit it. He’d always been like that too.  
Jerome remembered everything about Jeremiah. Every maze he’d drawn, every book he’d read, every dog eared page in his favorites, what got him mad, what made him laugh, how he looked when he was crafting an emotional mask. He’d gotten faster at that though. Jerome hadn’t noticed it when he’d put one on for Pengy. Jerome wondered if Miah had paid that same attention to him. Had held onto the thought of Jerome for comfort when he was in pain. Jerome doubted it. He’d always been the fuck up. The one that submitted and merged with the toxic circus culture. Jeremiah was his refuge because his twin was different, had stayed apart, had kept himself neat and nerdy. What refuge was there for Jeremiah in Jerome? You couldn’t take shelter from rain under an umbrella of water.  
“What, are you calling your group Death Eaters now?” Jerome blinked, and had to rewind his memories for a second to latch onto what Miah was replying to.  
He forced a giggle and closed the door behind himself, locking it. “Nope, we’re the Legion of Horribles!”  
“You have nine hundred ninety nine inmates following you?” Miah raised an eyebrow at him. Jerome grit his teeth. Fucking Miah never let any kind of inaccuracy go. Even had a problem with ‘dead as a doornail’ because ‘a doornail was never alive Jerome so it can’t be dead’. He even probably knew exactly how many people Jerome had following him too. Used CCTV to fucking count the cultists or something. The downside to his nitpicking.  
He would stab most people for shit like that. He flicked Miah’s forehead as he walked past him. “Fuck you, it’s more accurate than your Death Eaters.” Miah shrugged and looked away, which in Miah language, was as good as admitting the loss. Jerome smirked and fell back on the bed with a satisfied sigh.  
Miah was staring at him. “What?”  
“You wanted to talk about something alone?” the genius responded.  
Oh yeah. There went his good mood. Jerome still didn’t have an answer for one key part of their shared story. “Why’d you leave, Miah? All Lila’d say was, ‘You know why’ and Zachie-” Miah flinched. Jerome caught it. “Was mum,” He paused, studying Miah for further movement. “Unky Zach did something?”  
Jerome watched Miah cross his arms with the closest thing he’d felt to trepidation in a long while. “Let’s just say I haven’t been a virgin since I knew what the word meant.” Jerome wished he hadn’t gutted the fucker. Bleach wasn’t enough. He should have flayed the shitheap alive then dunked him in a barrel of salt! Nobody touched what was his and got away with it. Miah was staring at him again. Jerome wondered if the wrath showed on his face. He wondered if Miah could tell the difference between it and his joy. Most people couldn’t anymore.  
“So how does that translate to Mom screaming about me tryna kill ya?” Miah full out grimaced at that. Embarrassed then. Jerome couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him. They were talking about what led to the night that ruined both their lives, and Miah was embarrassed. Like he’d just been caught using a ruler to help draw his mazes.  
Miah did not appreciate his humor and threw him a glare before looking at the floor. “I was desperate. No one would believe me about him, so I tried saying it was you. Of course, with how young we were I had to switch it to something other than rape. Spur of the moment landed on attempted murder.” Jerome stilled. He’d thought Miah had made up the lies about him for fifteen years. But after learning how he’d disappeared, Jerome had hoped the adults had just automatically blamed him for it the same way they did everything else. The feed bags leaked. Jerome’s fault. One of the trailer's tires went flat. Jerome’s fault. Jeremiah’s gone? Obviously Jerome’s fault. But no, here Miah was, confessing to it. He’d set Jerome up. Just like everyone else. Just like Sionis. Just like Galavan. Just like Dwight. He’d had a problem, and used Jerome to get out of it. He’d thought through all the possibilities in that scheming Miah way of his, and decided to use Jerome. So he really was just another pawn to his twin. He fingered the switchblade in his sleeve as familiar, comforting, rage for himself started to boil in his ribcage. Maybe Jeremiah would look better than Jerome with his face cut off. “I’m better at thinking what I say through now.” Jerome giggled, the irony in that statement enough to inspire hours of glee. His words were exactly what was going to get Miah extremely hurt, if not killed now. Unlike the rest of the times people had chosen to discard Jerome, he now had plenty of time to take his revenge.  
Jerome stood up. “So I was a badly chosen patsy? That’s the reason for all of this?” Oh look, Miah was realising he’d fucked up. Too. Fuckin. Late~ “I was just the easiest human shield around?” Miah stumbled back adorably. He tried the door, only to realize it locked and unlocked with a key. Even from the inside. Just like their trailer room in the circus. Jerome licked his lips. Would those fingers stay so quick and dexterous if he cut them open? Miah’s eyes were wide, but there weren’t any tears. Yet. Jerome never cried before the beatings actually started either.  
“No! That’s not true!” Miah was backing across the room now, steps measured and controlled to prevent tripping. Jerome wanted to break that iron control so fucking bad. He flicked out his knife. Miah stumbled. Delicious. Jerome felt more alive than he had for years.  
“Oh really?” Miah’s back hit the wall and Jerome sprang forward to pin him there with a forearm against his chest. He could feel Miah’s heartbeat. It wasn’t as fast as Jerome expected it to be. He’d have to work harder then. “‘Cause that’s what it sounds like bro.” Miah wasn’t looking him in the eyes. To be fair, he was focused on the blade in Jerome’s hand, but Jerome never cared to be fair. “Look at me Miah!”  
Terrified green eyes locked onto his. Jerome imagined Miah could see all the things Jerome wanted to do to him in them. “I panicked! Mom wouldn’t believe me and I could see Uncle Zach coming! She wouldn’t shut up and I just wanted you there with me and it just slipped out!” Miah screamed, a tear falling against the frame of his glasses. Jerome grit his teeth. Miah had always been good at last minute lies. That story was bullshit and they both knew it.  
“Try again broski~” Jerome touched the tear with the tip of his knife and watched the water slide down the blade. Maybe the salt in it would make the first cut hurt more. “That was pathetic.”  
“I’m not lying! I swear! Please Jerome!”  
Jerome almost scoffed at how familiar the cries sounded. Nobody ever stopped when he screamed. Jerome ignored Miah’s screeches and trailed the blade down his face, onto his neck. No, that wouldn’t do. The manipulative twerp would die too quickly if he started there. The chest would be better. Jerome moved so he could pin Miah by the hips. It’d be enough. His twin was weaker than him by a long shot.  
But he was derailed as his hand brushed a leather sack straight out of a RenFaire hanging from Miah’s belt loop. Jerome remembered it had appeared ever since they were in the car. Possibly since Miah sent them off into the labyrinth on their own. Meaning he’d stopped to get it even with the whole fiasco going on. “What’s this?” Jerome asked, ripping it off. Miah was pulled hip first into him from the force. Jerome wrapped the arm with the knife around his shoulders to keep him still in this new position. Delicately, he laid the blade against his twins throat to make sure the consequences of fighting were known. Miah didn’t move.  
Interesting. Miah’s belt loop had broken before the strings tying the sack did. “Please don’t Jerome.” Jerome laughed at the pitiful beg and pushed Miah to the ground, pinning him with a foot on his chest. It was petty, vindictive, and miniscule, but Jerome hoped he got splinters from the fall.  
“Please don’t what?” Jerome asked, in the same sickeningly sweet voice Owen had used when Jerome had messed up his job of mucking out the elephant cage. Jerome watched Miah’s eyes lock on the bag in his hand. Curiously, his expression lost some of his fear and-. Jerome gasped in glee. Miah blushed. “What’s in the bag baby bro? Something embarrassing?”  
“Please stop. Don’t hurt me.” Miah answered his question from earlier and ignored the bag. Promising. Must be something juicy in there.  
Jerome put more weight on the foot holding Miah down, and was rewarded with a choked wheeze of pain. “Got porn in here Miah?” he asked, just to rile him up more. Jerome slid his knife under the knot holding the thing closed and jerked up. The string didn’t break and he almost lost his grip on the bag from the force. “What the?” He looked down at Miah, who was grinning up at him now, even as drool dripped from his mouth due to Jerome’s near suffocation of him. “The fuck is this thing made of?” Jerome slipped his knife into position again and this time tried to methodically saw through it. He thought it was working for a bit, rope fiber flaking off. Until he realised it was actually metal shavings from the knife. “Where’d you get this shit?” Jerome moved to trying to stab through the bag itself while he waited for an answer. It just set the bag to swinging. No answer was forthcoming. Jerome kicked Miah, not too hard, just a little up and down motion, to prompt him to talk. Of course, when Jerome was in the up portion of the attack, Miah gasped in as big a breath as he could. And Jerome was reminded of why he wasn’t talking. “Oh.”  
He took his foot off Miah’s chest, but only to put his heel on the ground next to Miah’s right hand, and the ball of his foot just barely pressing on his wrist. Miah was smart. The message was clear. Jerome waited while he coughed his way back to breathing. “Sami made it. You’ve got him locked up downstairs I think.” Adorably, Miah tried to spit on him. He only succeeded in spitting on himself.  
“That’s funny,” Jerome mocked with a chuckle. “I’ll have to get him to make me one.” He braced the bag on his palm and tried to stab through that way. He doubted he’d make it through more than one layer at this point. Even if it did work, he’d had worse than a stabbed hand.  
“He’s loyal to me. He’ll never do anything for you if you hurt me.” Jerome blinked down at him, bored at the claim. Everyone thought that about their friends. It was never true.  
He let some of his weight rest on the ball of his foot. Miah howled, the lights around them flickered, and Jerome swore he could feel the bones in Miah’s wrist grinding against each other through his boot.  
Jerome grinned, satisfied. Miah was pathetically trying to pry Jerome’s foot away while writhing in pain. Because Jerome was a softy, he let up a bit. Miah slumped, curled around his pinned wrist. A rather beautiful sight. Like those paintings Max would sell copies of. Those bible ones. “Sure bro.”  
Jerome needed something more solid than his hand to brace the sack on. He judged it safe to let Miah wallow on his own for a bit, so Jerome moved over to the dresser. He kept an eye on his twin of course, Miah did share his DNA, so he was tougher than most people.  
Jerome set the bag on the top of the dresser and flattened it. He raised his knife up, and brought it down as hard as he could on the leather.  
The knife broke.  
“Goddamnit!”  
Miah laughed derisively at him. For a split second, Jerome seriously considered just slitting the Judas’s throat and being done with it. “The bomb I set off wouldn’t have hurt that. Good luck.” Jerome twitched. He might not know what the fuck this thing was, but whatever was in it, well. Not only did Miah put enough worth on it to secure it like this, but he grabbed it while on the run. Miah would ditch his maze sketches to be just a little faster at running away. Jerome scoffed at the transparent man good naturedly.  
“Must be somethin’ amazing in here!” Jerome turned to trying to untie the knot in the strings. “Maybe I should burn it in front of you, when I get this thing open.” Ah, that got a reaction. Fear was expected. Shame and embarrassment again though? Just what was wittle Miah hiding here? One of his nails ripped on the string. That was fucking it. “Sami was the one who made this right? That’s whatcha said.” Miah stared at him, silent and apprehensive. “Guess I’ll go get him to open it.”  
“Okay stop! I’ll open it just,” Miah made an effort to sit up. “Just promise you won’t destroy what’s inside.” Well that was easy. Jerome hadn’t worried about keeping promises since he’d started snatching Lila’s booze.  
“I promise, doll.”  
Miah held out his left hand, the one without a fast bruising wrist. Jerome tossed him the bag. Miah set to work undoing the knot. “It’s miniature tech. The rope is a fingerprint scanner.” Well that was intriguing. Jerome drew his gun and crouched down in front of Miah. The bag was open in under ten seconds. Jerome snatched it. He upended it so the contents fell out onto the floor.  
His own face stared up at him. Not his scarred one. Not Jeremiah’s face. Jerome’s mugshot from when he was arrested for the death of their mother. The cut out grinned from a pile of other papers now littering the floor. Jerome swallowed. He picked up another paper and turned it over. A flyer for Haly’s Circus that had Jerome in jester costume on it. Another piece was a developed photo of twelve, thirteen? year old Jerome walking Tigra around. The photo fell to the floor. Why? He hadn’t let go of it. Oh, his hands were shaking. The bullets in his revolver were rattling too. He holstered it to stop the noise.  
It kept going. News articles of him. Security camera snapshots of him in Arkham. More flyers. A few photos of him around the circus. A photo that was clearly taken from within the crowd when Jerome was filling the cannon to kill Bruce Wayne. A sketch of him smiling, after his face had healed. There was still something in the pouch. Jerome reached in and carefully pulled out the small thing. A green felt case that zippered shut. Miah sniffled. Jerome didn’t look over. He unzipped it and pulled out the photo inside.  
It was the two of them, six years five months one week and three days old. Jerome knew because he remembered when it was taken. They’d stolen a camera off one of the visitors and had pressed themselves into a gap between tents so they wouldn’t be seen while they took turns taking pictures of each other. At the end they’d hugged as close as they could and held the camera out to take the shot of them together. Jerome had pressed the button and Miah had planted a big kiss on his cheek right when he did. They’d taken them to get developed with the little money they’d managed to pickpocket, but some scandal had happened and the circus packed up and moved that night. Zach crushed the camera two days later when he picked Jerome out for a beating. Miah had tracked the photo down.  
Huh. Funny. Jerome hadn’t known he was still capable of crying.  
“Jerome?” Miah’s voice was soft. Like he was trying not to scare Jerome. Jerome who had the gun, who had just crushed his wrist and threatened to slit his throat. Miah didn’t want to scare him. “Please say something.”  
“Why did you say it was me?” Jerome rasped. It just didn’t make sense. None of this added up. “Why?”  
“I don’t know-”  
“Don’t bullshit me!” Jerome whirled on his brother, finally making eye contact again. He wasn’t the only one crying. His voice softened, a brittle layer of shale, liable to crack. “Not right now.”  
Miah gulped. His voice was stronger than Jerome’s, but shaking. “I just wanted you to be there. Zach was coming and I just wanted you to be there. I wanted to hide in your arms like I always did and I couldn’t think of anybody, of anything else. Just you. So when she asked who it really was, I said your name.” Miah slowly, carefully raised himself onto his knees. Jerome had been able to feel more on the left side of his face than the right since the incident. And of course Miah knew that. He raised his right arm, the one that was hurt, that Jerome had hurt, and cupped Jerome’s face, rubbing the under eye scars with his thumb. “I’m so, so sorry.”  
Jerome felt all of his rage draining off. Liquefying like heated fat. He couldn’t hold onto it no matter how hard he tried.  
Involuntarily, his eyes closed and he leaned into Miah’s touch. Voluntarily, he grabbed Miah around the waist and hugged him close, exactly how they’d been in the picture. He didn’t sob. Miah did. Jerome hugged him tighter. “Don’t leave me again.”  
“Never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeet. This was supposed to be fluffy. That uh, did not work out. Sorry.


	5. Art of the OCs I'm Struggling to Describe Coherently

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you... can you guess what I'm more used to drawing? I'm so sorry to Sami for butchering his apron. But it's less butchered than if I kept trying to get the description of these peeps in the next chapter. The rest of them will probably be added to this chapter later, but these are the two I sketched during lecture today.  
> Also Marcy's eyes are normal. I don't know why the camera keeps making it look like she's got Heterochromia

Sami (he/him) and Marcy (she/her) and Jezebel (they/them) and Batu (she/her), four of the Oracle Survivors


	6. They're Coming (And They're Not Stopping)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y'all finally get to hear what Project Oracle is, and Jeremiah schemes

Jeremiah held onto Jerome. His wrist would need a splint to heal without lingering pain, but it wasn’t broken. He’d been right in guessing Jerome would go easy on him. Admittedly, things had escalated faster than he’d planned, but if Jerome’s literal tears were anything to go by, everything had worked out perfectly in the end. 

He would have to continue observation to keep matters on track, but Jerome trusted Jeremiah now. More than he trusted his allies at least. And Jeremiah had to admit, the hug was helping to calm him down. As much control as he’d cultivated over the years, he still couldn’t stop a rush of adrenaline from being held at knifepoint. He’d also hoped to save the pictures reveal for future use, but ah well. 

Jeremiah was struck by the urge to bury his face in Jerome’s neck. He pondered it. The move would appease Jerome, and there weren’t any cons he could think of. He did it. Jeremiah was rewarded by Jerome tightening his arms further. His heartbeat slowed to a steady bass.

Interesting. Jeremiah had never been able to beat pesky adrenaline surges that quickly before. But as enjoyable as this sensation was, Jeremiah would have to indulge after a plan for Oracle was devised. He’d avoided reuniting with his brother for the danger exactly this situation would entail. 

He’d taken a brief scan of the place when he’d arrived, but it was cursory. There were so many other things Jeremiah had needed to focus on then as well. Now, Jeremiah dug his nose into Jerome’s jaw, the tip brushing the edge of his twin’s scars, and sent out what Ecco called his, ‘ghosts’. Jeremiah couldn’t think of anything technical to call them, so he didn’t call them anything.

The sets of invisible eyes roamed the halls, revealing the layout and counting resources. The place was built for luxury and not defense. Jeremiah would rather they go somewhere else to face off the next squad of Retrievers. Ah, the fellow escapees had been released as he’d requested. He brushed past them, checking to make sure none of them were damaged beyond usefulness. All of their faces lit up when they felt the cool breeze that accompanied him. A chorus of, “Hey Jay!”s bid him adieu as he moved on. Jeremiah smiled against Jerome’s neck. Still loyal, just as he’d hoped. 

There was a vault in the basement. It could be used as an escape route if Jerome was willing to carry Jeremiah’s passed out body. The door was thick and secure enough that if they destroyed the control pad on their way in, even Oracle would be hard pressed to break through in under a minute. Unless one of the three Ringers in the squad was a Hephaestus. 

There were five entrances, counting the garage and not counting the windows. Jeremiah would need to talk to Sami about trapping them to hopefully wipe out a good portion of the foot soldiers right at the start. Jeremiah doubted they’d drive right down the driveway, but an IED could be wired on the off chance. 

“Miah?” 

Jeremiah snapped back to his body and drew his head back to look at Jerome. His brother smiled, the rather soft expression twisted to look manic by the scars. “Does that brain of yours ever stop?” 

It didn’t look like Jerome wanted a serious answer. “Not really no.” Something shifted in his brother’s eyes. Jeremiah recalculated. “But this is the slowest it’s been in a while.” That was a lie. This was the fastest and clearest he could remember ever thinking. He needed to finish scouting and rigging up a rudimentary plan, and interacting with Jerome still required all of his faculties. And annoyingly, Jeremiah could feel himself missing the closeness of the hug already. Even though Jerome’s arms were still around him, they weren’t as tight and he couldn’t feel Jerome’s pulse through his cheek. So, “I’d like to enjoy that for a bit longer, so if you don’t mind.” Jeremiah dug his face back into the muscles of Jerome’s neck to the sound of his twin laughing. Jerome’s hand petting through his hair was a welcome addition. 

“I can live with that.” Jerome’s throat flexed as he spoke and Jeremiah snuggled closer. He went back to exploring what he had to work with. 

All of the windows had locks, as expected for the home of a Kingpin. However, they weren’t bulletproof, so the locks were pretty much useless. A focus on shoring up the lower floors would be necessary. Ah, he found the armory. Finally. It was much too small. The largest gun in the arsenal was a shotgun. Jeremiah would have to talk with Penguin about securing more arms, or material for Sami to make arms. Marcy’s input would be needed for that conversation. Jeremiah moved on.

The roof had multiple peaks and hidden vantage points for snipers. Again, expected for a Kingpin. Good. Once the weapons were acquired, Batu could be placed in any one of six places for an advantage there. 

Now for the grounds. They were a ways away from the next building. Not far enough to avoid a sheltered RPG attack, but far enough away to not have to worry about ziplines. Unfortunately, they were nowhere near the rivers, which meant Kaia’s help would be limited to what the pipes could deliver. There was a decrepit garden of bushes surrounding the house, but no trees. No cover for the invading force. Good. 

The population was disturbingly low. More soldiers were needed to man the windows, more snipers than just Batu, more people to scout. Well, Jeremiah was fairly certain that between his followers, himself, Jerome, and Jerome’s two person boy band, they could put Penguin back at the top of the criminal ladder by the end of the day. That should give them all the man power they needed. Any further planning would require the results of his meetings with the others. 

A separate issue was the loyalty of Jerome’s mentioned boy band. Both of them could be incredibly useful, and neither were prone to being followers. Jeremiah would have to take quick steps to mend the relationship between himself and Tetch. Getting Ecco to apologize to him would be difficult, but likely the easiest way to make a large stride with him. Crane craved a father figure. More specifically his own father. Jeremiah would have to see what their time table was like. Attempting a Seance took time, both for the ceremony and the recovery. Actually, a Seance would likely help with Tetch as well. Giving him time to talk to his dead sister again, being the link between the two, yes, that would ensure his loyalty. So for Tetch, and apology from Ecco and promise of a Seance. For Crane, a Seance promise and maybe lab supplies for his work? Jeremiah would need to talk with him and Fries about where to lift those. 

That led to the last issue. Fries and Firefly. Jeremiah didn’t know nearly as much about those two. He’d looked into all of Strange’s operations after the reveal of what he was doing, but it hadn’t been a deep concern of his. Penguin knew them better. So a talk with him about the two altereds. 

A recap of his to-do list.

  1. ‘Check on’ his fellow survivors
  2. Have Ecco apologize to Tetch and explain the possibilities of a Seance to him
  3. Have a meeting with Penguin, Ecco, Jerome, and Marcy about acquiring weapons
  4. Have a meeting with Penguin, Jerome, and Sami about fortifying the house for attack
  5. Have a meeting with Jerome and Penguin about setting the latter up as a Kingpin again
  6. Talk to Fries and Crane about getting lab supplies for them both 
  7. Take Crane aside privately and explain the option of a Seance for him
  8. Get information about Fries and Firefly from Penguin



It was almost a whole day of work on its own. But there were other things that could be accomplished at the same time. After the plans were made in the meetings, Jeremiah could have them be carried out while he was forming the next ones. 

He was still missing one key piece though. He needed to know when Oracle was coming. He needed to know their movements. Maybe Penguin would be able to cover that with a spy network as Kingpin, but not quickly enough. And it struck him.

“Jerome?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t you have a cult?”

The chest underneath him rumbled in laughter. “Yup! As I was introduced to them, ‘A bunch of lunatics and morons!’” 

Jeremiah leaned back but kept his arms slung around Jerome’s neck. “Think they can follow orders?” Jerome smirked.

“To a point. If they’re simple.”

Jeremiah mirrored his expression. “We’re gonna need to talk to Jezebel.”

“Jezebel?” Jerome asked, his arms loosening. Jeremiah took the opportunity and levered himself to his feet. “Hold on, Jezebel? Which one ‘em got a kickass name like that from their parents?” 

Jeremiah chuckled and carefully began picking up the various paper scraps across the floor. Of course Jerome would love Jezebel’s name. “None of them. They picked it themself.” Jerome slid the photo of both of them back into its pouch. Oh, he’d never put it down. “Oracle picked them up early. Didn’t remember their old name. And it fits, they were in the Aphrodite wing after all.”

Jerome leaned his head on his fist. “Aphrodite wing?” Jeremiah slipped the photos into the bag. He held it out for Jerome to put the felt pouch in. Jerome’s question didn’t make sense unless he knew far fewer facts about Oracle than Jeremiah assumed.

“What do you know about Project Oracle?”

Jerome shrugged and bounced to his feet to match Jeremiah. “They took ya when you were ten. They’re some kind of shady organization. They’re trying to give people superpowers?”

Jeremiah blinked. He added another meeting to his to-do list. “Almost all of that is wrong, but I’m going to wait until everyone is together to explain why. I’m not giving that long of a speech twice.” Jerome shrugged again.

“Fair enough.” He watched Jeremiah tie the bag shut. Jeremiah couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “I assume you’ve got a plan. I know you just used our bro time to scheme.” Jeremiah felt something loosen in his chest as he smiled.

“I do, brother.” They could cut up Jerome’s face all they wanted, but they’d never reach that fire in his eyes. “And the first step is holding that meeting about what we’re dealing with.” 

“Well that’s easy enough.” He skipped to the door and unlocked it. Then he froze as still as a statue. Jeremiah assumed Jerome was waiting for him. He was right. As soon as he was close enough, an arm was slung around his neck and Jerome started forward again. Suddenly there was a bell in his twin’s hand, and Jerome was ringing it up and down like Ye Olde Town Crier. “Mandatory Brunch Meeting! All You Louts, Mandatory Brunch Meeting In The Dining Hall!” 

“It’s four in the afternoon.”

“Brunch is a space of mind,” Jerome shot back.

Jeremiah smiled. Memories of when Jerome started to use those uncounterable non-phrases to respond to Jeremiah’s nitpicking replaying in his head. “Oh? How do you get there?” 

“Take a right at murder and look for the yellow flashes. If you hit arson at a picnic, you’ve gone too far.” Jeremiah snickered at Jerome’s improv. 

It didn’t take long for all the players to congregate. Jerome sat at the head of the table with Jeremiah standing by his right. Penguin was at the other end. Fries and Firefly sat on either side of him. Tetch and Crane sat on Jerome’s immediate left, and the Survivors filled the rest of the seats, with Ecco on Jerome’s immediate right. Butch, Penguin had corrected him to ‘Grundy’ stood behind Penguin. Jeremiah was 100% certain the man was Butch Gilzean with a new condition that turned his skin white, but whatever. “I assume this is everyone?” Jeremiah asked, even though he knew it was. 

“Yes, unless you want the rest of the inmates as well?” Penguin was the one to answer. Firefly rolled her eyes and Fries shifted in his seat.

Jeremiah shook his head. Penguin was looking for someone to acknowledge him and take him seriously. Jeremiah answered without sarcasm. “No. This is sufficient.” He sighed and rubbed his temples. Exhaustion would gain sympathy from the bird, and likely Fries, if his reacting body language was any indication. Now, how to explain to a bunch of murderers with mood swing issues the sheer amount of shit they’d all jumped into? Well, Jeremiah did have Jerome and his escapees to protect him now, and they were short for time, so exactly like that.

“It has been brought to my attention that none of you, barring those who were a part of it, actually have any idea of what Project Oracle is, and how much danger you’ve brought down on yourselves.”

Firefly leaned forward to interrupt. “How do you mean?”

Jeremiah twitched. What exactly did she think this meeting had been called for? Was she from a culture that encouraged ‘active listening’ of that sort or was she just incredibly rude? Looking at her expression, Jeremiah guessed rude. He suppressed the urge to set Ecco on her. “If you don’t interrupt ‘im you’ll find out, bitch,” Marcy spoke up. Jerome laughed, Firefly bristled and Jeremiah intervened before the meeting went entirely off track. He made a mental note to get Marcy a leather jacket for the comment.

“As I was saying, I’m going to do my best to inform you all of what to expect in the coming days, and why.” Jeremiah pushed his almost broken glasses up his face. Add that to his to do list. “Project Oracle is the foundation of a multinational corporation. Its goal is to create people with the powers of the greek pantheon by using the DNA given to them by Ares in 1886.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re serious?”

“Fucking hell, really? Cool.” Jerome of course.

“Interesting.”

“No way.”

Jeremiah waited for the exclamations to end. Maybe he was better off with just Jerome and his fellow survivors. This was going to take a lot longer than they had time for. Well, there was something he could get started while they fluttered. “Jezebel?” 

Jezebel threw an arm over the back of their chair and nodded at him, ready to go. He passed her a paper with a drawing of Jerome’s cult’s sigil. “Get Jerome’s cult on the look out for Retrievers and their movements.” They nodded again and was out the door. Jeremiah’s chest loosened slightly at at least one person doing what needed to be done. That was the mark of a good follower. No nonsense, no complaining, just efficiently carrying out orders.

Another ten seconds and there was silence again. Good. Jeremiah continued. “They have been remarkably successful with this endeavor, and with brainwashing the then mutated humans into perfect soldiers. These soldiers are then either sold to the highest bidder, or added to their Retrieval Squads. There are three trained, superpowered soldiers leading each Squad, and at least one of those groups will be laying siege to this mansion by the end of the week.” 

“You can’t be serious.” Penguin looked horrified, and he wasn’t the only one. Jeremiah mustered up his best sympathetic look for the bird. Only two people didn’t seem adversely affected by the news, one was Jerome, who had that distinct calculating look in his eye, and one was wearing a scarecrow hood so Jeremiah couldn’t really tell. 

Penguin was the lynchpin in his current plan. Jeremiah needed him focused and paying attention. Eye contact would make Penguin feel like an equal partner and give him something other than his panic to anchor with. Jeremiah looked Penguin in the eyes. “Unfortunately I am. There’s a reason I didn’t seek Jerome out before, and this is it.” Penguin was getting ready to talk again and Jeremiah cut him off, knowing where it was going. “No, leaving now won’t save you. You’ve had contact with Oracle escapees, they will now do their best to either capture you as a subject, or wipe you off the map no matter what. Your only choice is to fight, or to disappear entirely. Speaking from experience, the latter is harder than you’d think,” Jeremiah lied. Penguin and the rest probably could save themselves if they immediately severed contact, but Jeremiah needed them.

“The rest of the squad are mercenaries on long term contracts, trained to work together seamlessly to capture or kill escapees.”

“Oh please,” Typhoon interrupted. “They’re trained to kill. You’re just special ‘cause you’re this ‘big success’.”

Jeremiah fought a smirk. Exactly as he’d wanted, a vague comment that would inspire cautious levels of respect and perhaps even fear. “Be that as it may, that still means they have both goals.”

“What do you mean he is a big success?” 

Jeremiah glared at Fries. This was longer of a delay than he wanted for the topic, and the more Oracle’s interest in him was explored, the more empty it would look.

Ecco giggled. “They mean Jay here’s the only one to escape Oracle three times. He’s the only one they bother bringing back in rather than just killing.” Jeremiah pictured his hands around her throat.

“Why?” Crane asked.

“Because not all God DNA is equally compatible with humans.” Jeremiah needed this tangent ended. He didn’t know how to do that without using threats, which would destroy the small progress he’d made with Penguin. 

“Yo, next person to interrupt my Baby Bro gets a knife in the eye, kapeesh?” Jerome grinned darkly beside him. Jeremiah put a hand on his shoulder in thanks. He knew it would look to the rest like Jeremiah was holding Jerome back. 

“I’ll help!” Ecco chirped from his other side, and now they were both competing with knife tricks. Jeremiah let it go. They weren’t making noise after all.

“Now, soldiers aren’t the only thing they make. Once they found the cure to the common cold in an Apollo subject, that wing became a hellscape you’d never want to visit. Fertilisers and growth steroids found in Demeter subjects. Hephaestus subjects created revolutionary tech out of paper clips and pipe cleaners. Project Oracle and its secrecy is the lifeblood of this organisation.”

Firefly waved her hand over the table and Jeremiah turned to her. Maybe he could get away with just the ice powers? They didn’t really need this bitch alive. “Yes?”

“If they have the cure for sickness, and awesome tech, and super crops, why haven’t we got any of this? How are they making money if they’re not selling it?”

“She’s right, this doesn’t make sense.” Well, at least Penguin had just added on to Firefly’s question and not directly interrupted Jeremiah. He could use that to avoid killing him. 

That said, both of the askers were morons. “Why sell a single cure when you can sell a thousand palatives? Why sell a single device when you can sell a ten piece set? Do think like a businessman, I thought you used to run this city.” Jeremiah made sure to keep his voice sadly disappointed and not condescending. 

Tetch raised his hand. Good. It might be under threat, but that was still repeated following Jeremiah’s orders in this new group. “Yes?”

“You have not said against what business we are fighting. To know the name would be enlightening.”

Jeremiah smirked as darkly as he could. This would create an even longer uproar than greek deity DNA. “You all have invited yourselves into a war against AmaZone. Congratulations.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeremiah makes me laugh and cry. I’m certain this is a real conversation that happened in the bunker.  
> Jeremiah: I have excised all emotions from myself except fear, and am working on removing that too.  
> Ecco, M.D.: Good for you. Why’d you ask for a check up?  
> Jeremiah: My physical form is giving me problems.  
> Ecco, M.D.: Ok, like what?  
> Jeremiah: Well whenever I think about Jerome my chest gets all tight and it’s hard to breathe.  
> Ecco, PhD: …….mOTHERFU-


	7. Sure They Will (Cops Are Dumb)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thanks to a lovely commenter, I realized that I uploaded draft 2 of chapter 6, instead of the third and final draft which fixed some ooc moments and some misused pronouns. That has now been fixed.(Thank you doll!) This chapter is the obligatory, "hey, what are the 'good guys' doing right now?" but I put as much villain stuff as I could in

The GCPD was bustling even hours after the explosion had gone off, which was the time Jim stumbled it. He’d been ‘released’ from the Gotham General with a crutch for one leg and a cast on the other arm. The main thing holding back though was the sewn up puncture wound in his abdomen. It was also the reason he was here. It would have killed him if it hadn’t been held shut for at least a few minutes between his impromptu flight and the paramedics arriving. They’d found him on his back, which meant it couldn’t have been the ground helping him survive. 

Jim thought about the deathly familiar face with fractured glasses hovering above him. He thought about a blurry scene of him being hauled away by his maniac of a brother. It was certain. Jeremiah Valeska had saved his life. He’d stuck around to stop Jim from bleeding out, and had been rewarded for it with captivity. Jim Gordon couldn’t sit around while he was in Jerome’s clutches, suffering who knows what horrors. 

Jim couldn’t stop thinking about how Alice had ended up. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t, let Jeremiah get that desperate. And yet, Jerome had torn a city apart after being alive again for only a few hours. What he could do to a human being, to someone close to him? Images of Lila Valeska, Paul Cicero, and Zachary Trumble pop through his head. It took Jerome much less than a few hours to do that.

“Harper!” She turned from the platform to look, astonished, at the door. “How are you coming with processing the scene?” 

“Not very well, sir. We’re a little busy. Shouldn’t you still be at the hospital?” She quickly met up with him and matched his gait step for step. Jim would place money on her being ready to catch him if he fell.

He shook his head. “Not as long as the reason I’m alive is in the clutches of a psychopath.” Jeremiah was undoubtedly in worse condition than Jim already.

“Fine sir, but at least sit down. You’re no use to anybody if you pass out.”

Jim opened his mouth to argue, but realized that everything really did hurt and he wasn’t exactly getting anything done just by standing. He collapsed into his office chair. “So if you being busy stops you from investigating the bomb site, that means there’s some other crisis going on too.”

“Yes sir. It appears that Penguin is trying to take back the Underworld of Gotham.” Harper set down the file she’d been carrying in front of Jim. “There have multiple strategic attacks across the city. A large portion of criminals are already claiming loyalty to him once again, and Victor Zsasz has gone missing.”

Jim opened the folder to be greeted with pictures of massacres. Every body mutilated and put on display somehow. Whether intestines stretched from a bloated corpse like tinsel, or a dismembered body was poorly reconstructed on a frame of two broomsticks, or a myriad of other horrifying positions, every single death was made into a message. Above every scene, in red liquid Jim doubted was anything other than blood, was ‘They Betrayed Penguin’. Jim swallowed because otherwise he’d throw up. 

“This. This doesn’t look like Penguin.”

Harper nodded. She was staring at his face, he saw when he looked up, and not at the pictures. “We believe Jerome is helping him sir. His cult’s symbol has also been found at all the scenes.”

“Fuck. He still had Crane and Tetch with him at the bunker.” Jim couldn’t bring himself to accept what this meant.

“Sir?”

“Jerome Valeska, Scarecrow, The Mad Hatter, and The Penguin are teamed up.” He was almost regretting leaving the hospital. Harper grimaced and shuffled slightly. There was something more. “What is it?”

“Forensics sir. They uh,” she swallowed. “They found evidence of Firefly and Fries at a few of the scenes.”

Jim’s throat closed up. “Them too? You’re saying six of the worst criminals that have ever plagued Gotham are working in tandem?”

Harper finally let herself grimace. “That’s what it looks like sir.”

Jim closed the folder and put his head in his hands. “Is there any pattern to where these hits are occurring?”

“They’re the bases of Sofia Falcone’s lieutenants.” The answer came quickly. “There are only two left that haven’t been hit.” She predicted his next question unerringly. 

“Get units over there immediately.”

Jim was halfway through struggling to stand up when he realised Harper hadn’t moved to carry out his order. “Harper?”

She jutted her chin out and looked over his shoulder. He wouldn’t like what she said next. “Sir, these are high end criminals that are being killed. Murder, human trafficking, extortion. And they aren’t just being killed. They’re being tortured and mutilated en masse. Do you really think we should be sending officers in to get violated for them? Nevermind that there’s about a quarter of the entire manpower of the GCPD left behind at each of these places. We might not even be able to stop this if everyone gives their lives.”

Jim sank back into his seat. Despair loomed over him. What kind of attacking force was this? Well, it was six of Gotham’s absolute worst. If Jim couldn’t even stop mass murder, how was he going to save Jere-

Oh God. “Jeremiah.” 

“What?” Harper had started to relax when Jim sat back down.

“Jeremiah Valeska. Jerome Valeska’s twin brother. The explosion earlier was cause when Jerome abducted him. The blast would have killed me if Jeremiah hadn’t stuck around to save my life. He could have run and escaped, but instead he saved me.” Harper reached across the desk to cover his hand with her own. “I knew he was in Jerome’s hands but, this team up. He’s in a den somewhere with all of these lunatics now.”

“That’s it sir!” Jim looked up, confused. What about that poor kid’s situation warranted a happy tone? “They’re in a den somewhere! We just need to find that!”

Jim grinned. It was that simple. “Has anybody been watching Penguin’s mansion recently?”

Harper matched his expression. “I’ll send a car over to scout.”

“While you’re at it,” Jim stopped her from leaving, feeling guilty all of a sudden. “Make sure there’s always somebody guarding Harvey too. He’s still out.”

“Of course, sir.”

It was all of five minutes before the report came back. Penguins mansion was bustling. Men flooding in and out with supplies, the garden getting ripped up, the windows being boarded and truckload upon truckload of guns, electric batons, and even explosives were being delivered. The officers had also reported screaming from inside. 

Alice’s screams echoed through Jim’s head now. He would not let that happen again. No matter what. But Penguin’s house was a fortress now. An army and a half manning it. In less than a day. The GCPD would already be useless for this. He’d have to rely on Penguin being weak and emotional again. Talk to him one on one. 

Jim stood up, the painkillers were wearing off. Good, the more clear headed he was, the better.

He was just shrugging on his jacket when Harper stopped in the doorway. “Sir, I can’t let you go alone. Not when you’re injured like this.” Jim almost cursed. He couldn’t exactly stop her from doing what she wanted, after all, he was injured like this. 

But he wouldn’t risk her in this hail mary mission of his. “Stay by the car then. See if you can get any more details on what Penguin is having delivered.”

She didn’t agree to do so, but she didn’t stop talking either. “Sir, you’re going to talk to Penguin, and I don’t think that’s a good idea. The men need you here right now. We need our leader.” She just didn’t understand.

“Harper, I’m only alive because of Jeremiah. I owe it to him to at least try to get him out of there.” 

Contradictingly, her voice lost some of its deference as she spoke, “With all due respect, sir. Jeremiah gave us back our leader. Our lynchpin. And you’re aiming to throw away everything his sacrifice means, because of your guilt.”

She didn’t understand. This was the right thing to do. Captain Barnes had said, before he got the Tetch virus, that all men could do anything under the right circumstances, and that the only thing that separated the good from the bad, was the law. Jim ascribed to a similar thought, but not the same. What separates good from bad was always following moral and ethical lines, no matter the threat to one's own wellbeing. That was why he had to at least try.

“Look, Harper, you won’t stop me from doing this. So either you man the car for a quick getaway, or you stay here and make sure everything stays on track.”

She snapped back into the role of detective, her heels clicking together in the ‘attention’ position. “I’ll be going with you sir.”

“Okay. Let’s go then.”

Another report came in over the radio as they were driving. Another place had been hit, only, the people had already cleared out of it, because they’d figured out the same pattern the GCPD had. All forty six of the people who usually inhabited the mansion had been tracked down and dragged back there according to eyewitnesses. A few of the witnesses said the dragging they saw had been literal, with people being towed via chains behind cars. Lucius said some bodies had wounds that would match that story. 

Jim wanted to throw up, and the returning pain wasn’t helping with that. The horror stories were still coming when they pulled up to Penguin’s manse. The only place left for the monsters to hit was Siren’s. Jim couldn’t say he was dreading the loss. 

“Stay here. Keep the car running. Get all the information you can.” Jim made sure Harper nodded before levering himself out of the car. The walk up to the gate was a struggle. Luckily, or unluckily, he was too pathetic of a figure for anyone to attack him. What with his left leg in a cast, a torso brace, his left arm manning the crutch for his leg, and his right arm in a cast, nobody registered him as a threat. His right leg was fine though, and he could balance on it for the second he needed to drop the crutch and shoot with his left hand.

True, it wouldn’t be much use against this army, but it could be a split second distraction, and maybe he could even use it to take down one of the leaders. Even Penguin himself. 

There were five men on either side of the gate, monitoring and checking everything that went in and out. One of them approached Jim. “You ain’t on the agenda, pal.” Well, that was expected. What wasn’t expected was no offer of telling Penguin who wanted to see him.

“My name is Jim Gordon,” he tried.

The thug laughed. “Yeah, I know. Your mug’s famous. Still ain’t on the agenda.” He poked Jim in the chest with his gun. Usually, Jim would barely have felt it. Now he had to grit his teeth to keep the gasp in. 

“Just,” he spoke, covering for getting his breath back. “Just tell Penguin I’m here. He’ll want to see me.”

“I don’t talk to Penguin!” The thug looked insulted now. “What kinda small gang type operation you think this is? I’ll tell the supervisor that some cripple’s makin trouble at the gate is what I’ll do.” 

This was getting out of hand and he wasn’t even inside yet. “Come on. If I’m lying you’ll get to beat me up anyway. Just pull the chain that leads to Penguin. Please”

The thug frowned at him for a few seconds, and Jim wondered if Harper’s driving skills would be needed sooner rather than later. Then the dude turned around and walked back to his group. Jim followed. After a couple minutes of one of them on the phone, they brought it away from their ear and put it on speaker. Loud cackling echoed out.

“Jimbo!” 

Jim growled. “Jerome.”

“Oh this is too good! You’ve invited yourself here to die!”

“No. I’m here to talk to Penguin.” Jim eyed the thugs who looked very cheered at Jerome’s words.

More laughing, then a slightly distant, “Pengy! Hey Pengy! Come here! Get a load of this! Officer Jimbo’s at the door!”

A very distant, “What!?”

“There ya go, yur conversation partner’s comin’.”

Evidently the psychopaths were looking at a camera feed of him, because when Penguin’s voice came again, he was laughing too. “Oh Jim, who’s limping now? You’ll need a new name. How about Duckling?” At that, Jerome joined back in the laughter. 

“So, Duckling, what’re ya here for?” Jerome’s voice was loud, and Jim guessed his lips were pressed right against the phone on his end. 

Jim straightened. A scream came from the house, too high pitched from agony to ascribe a name to it. “I’m here to talk to Penguin about Jeremiah. I know you have him.”

Jerome’s laughter immediately stopped. “Hey Pengyyyyyy, do you wanna hear what the little piggy has to say?”

“Why not?” Jim breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Oswald agree. He was the one criminal that could still actually be reasoned with in Gotham. “Let him in, boys. Jeffree, escort him to the dining room.”

So Jim entered the property. It was even more clear what was going on behind the wall. The gardens were gone, and in their place, a labyrinth of trenches with several gun stations already set up. The windows weren’t just boarded. They had archer, or Jim supposed, gunman holes cut in each one. He counted at least three snipers on the roof. Penguin was preparing for an assault. A massive one. That or he was just building an entire military base. 

The inside was busier than the outside. Every person he passed was armed. People in clear maid and janitorial outfits had machine guns slung over their backs.

What the fuck was going on. 

When he got to the dining room, Penguin was sitting at the head of the table. Jerome was nowhere to be seen. “Penguin.”

“Jim. You said you wanted to talk about Jeremiah?”

The detective couldn’t quite tell what Penguin’s tone of voice was. “Yes. He doesn’t deserve to be locked in here with his psychopath of a brother.” Whatever Penguin’s expression was, it changed slightly. “He saved my life and no matter what I will not let him rot in here.”

That got a recognizable emotion. Shock. “If you doubt my motivation, just ask Tetch how far I’ll go to protect the siblings of  _ villains _ like you.”

“You knew him for, what, all of five minutes? How could he possibly have saved your life?” The rethroned kingpin asked snidely. 

Jim sat down in one of the chairs around the table. His leg was really starting to hurt. “The bomb that blew up the bunker. It should have killed me. The doctors said something held my wound closed for at least a few minutes. Seeing as I was found laying on my back, that had to be someone.” Penguin tilted his head, intrigued. “I don’t remember much, but I remember Jeremiah’s face over me, and then Jeremiah being dragged away by Jerome.”

Penguin was chuckling now. Jim had to keep going.

“I know you fear Jerome too. You probably don’t like Crane’s fear gas or Tetch’s hypnotism either.” He was hitting a mark. Penguin’s face was blank. That was the ‘you’re right but I’m not admitting it’ tell. “That’s why you’re surrounding yourself with soldiers loyal to you. I know you. This kind of defense system? You’ve never felt the need for it before. You’re terrified.” Jim leaned forward as far as he could. “Let me take Jeremiah out of here. He’s what Jerome wants right now. Let me take him, and Jerome’s attention to the GCPD. Away from you.”

There were only a few seconds of silence before, “You know James? That was a remarkably well put together speech. Considering you had to make it up on the fly.” Penguin leaned forward. “But you’re too late. Jerome helped make this possible for me again, and you’re right, Jeremiah is what he wants. I haven’t had anything to fear since Arkham, and even less now that he has his twin with him again.” Penguin shrugged and smiled at him now. Shit. “If that’s all you’re here for, you can leave. Now.” Jim only had one last card to pull, and it would most likely just get him kicked out on his ass. Or killed.

“Not until I see Jeremiah. I need to know that he’s at least alive.” 

Immediately, the double doors at the end of the room were kicked open. There stood Jerome Valeska, with a body wrapped around him. The body of his twin. Tetch stood just a foot or two behind, creepily giddy. 

“Jimbo! Not nice ta see yah!” Jerome crowed. “Oh wait, we were calling you Duckling now weren’t we?” Jim stood up as quickly as he could. Sitting in Valeska’s presence was not a good idea. “So, Duckling, you care for my brother~” A condescending head tilt. “That’s sweet.” Jeremiah hadn’t moved yet in Jerome’s arms. That was wrong. He’d been shivering since he’d been in Jim’s view. 

“Surely your brother’s heating is more important than this meeting?” Tetch asked from behind the maniac. Now that Jim looked harder, the hypnotist was carrying a bowl of steaming water, and was repeatedly dipping a rag into it, and then pressing the rag against Jeremiah’s hanging forehead. 

Jerome suddenly looked more serious than Jim had ever seen him before. “I thought you said you could keep up!” 

“I can do anything for the medium of my darling Alice. But this policeman could take him too, as he is entirely callous!” 

Jim’s brain worked overtime as Jerome gave him a condescending scan. A medium for his darling Alice? And Tetch was clearly actively concerned over Jeremiah’s health and wellbeing, as well as keeping Jeremiah where Tetch could access him. It didn’t make sense unless-

“I don’t think Ducky here poses much of a threat.”

Project Oracle. “Jeremiah let you see Alice’s ghost. That’s his power.” 

Jim regretted opening his mouth almost before he did it. Every criminal in the room was now hyper focused on him. For the first time, Jim considered that he might not be walking out of here alive. 

“Yeeeeessssss, you’re correct. So d’ya see how hopeless your little visit is yet?”

Jim backed toward the door. He was not getting Jeremiah by talking. In fact, he might have made Jeremiah’s situation worse. Maybe Harper had been right. He should have tried to stop the group altogether with the GCPD. “I do. I also see that you all value him much more than I realised, and as long as you care about him, I don’t see why he shouldn’t stay with you.”

Jerome grinned and made a sound closer to a shriek than a laugh. “Ah, trying to save your own bacon! That’s funny! Tell me, why shouldn’t I just,” his face and voice dropped to a flat deadpan. “Kill you now.”

“I think he can still be useful.” Jim would thank Penguin if saving him wasn’t entirely motivated by the bird’s self interest. “Besides, watching him fruitlessly dance around for ‘the common good’ will be amusing. That’s why you came in here isn’t it? His hopeless floundering is hilarious.”

“True!” Jerome snorted. Jeremiah gave a larger shiver than normal, and the psychopath’s focus was off Jim, and back on his brother. “Whatever. Get him out of here before I change my mind.”

Tetch looked like he wanted viciously to disagree so Jim limped out of the room before the man could come up with a rhyme. His progress out of the house and grounds went uncontested and he collapsed into the car in relief. 

The ride back to the GCPD was not silent. Jim filled Harper in on what he had seen, and Harper filled him in on what he’d missed. Apparently he hadn’t seen Fries, Scarecrow, and Firefly for a reason. There’d been a shoot out at Siren’s. It seemed Barbara had a much larger fighting force than they’d realized. Currently, it was still going on, but many of the support staff had already been strung up, and Penguin’s combo army of thugs, Strange’s Monsters, and just plain freaks were gaining ground. 

Harper had one last piece of news for him. Since almost every officer was serving on scout duty, a white van matching Jim’s debrief description had been seen entering the city via the East Bridge. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS:I do keep repeating Jim's version of events after the explosion a lot, because whenever I watch the show he seems really obsessed about one thing at a time. Like after learning about Sofia hiring the pig he keeps talking about that and only that to every one of his confidants. I realized it came off a little heavy only when I was literally like a second away from hitting the 'post' button.  
> PPS:A good deal of this chapter will also be covered in the villains pov next update, including an explanation for how Jeremiah got incapacitated, and a description of the Seance that was off page here!  
> PPPS: Now that I'm actually writing with all of these characters, I understand why it takes a whole season for some of the arcs in this show


	8. The Gentle Art of Violence (And Necromancy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeyyyy, I felt kind of bad for the last chapter cause it was literally just set up and needed setting expansion for future chapters. In other words Boring(tm). So here you go! A much more fun chapter! With some actual plot! And foreshadowing! And exploration of supporting cast and powers! And most importantly!! Jerome and Jeremiah interaction!!!! Yay! Also some gratuitous violence cause it's Jerome

So, Jerome had eight superpowered individuals to lead on an assault on one of Penguin’s old enemies. This made him happy for a number of reasons. He had been starting to get bored from all the meetings, talking, and planning. Don’t get him wrong, he could plan with the best of them, had done so for three years in Arkham. But that was the thing. It’d taken him three years, it had mostly fallen apart, (not due to his own fault though. Who could predict a global human experimentation ring?) and it was spurred by a very deep desire of his, wanting to reunite with Jeremiah. 

But this planning, this was planning how to fight, and Jerome preferred to wing those as much as possible. It was more fun that way. Thinking of, this was going to be an especially fun fight! Seeing as how his dear little Miah had specifically requested a ‘slaughter with mutilation afterwards’ which meant all kinds of playtime.

Truly the only downside to this situation was that Miah wasn’t coming with him, and was sticking to the meeting room. But that was okay for now. Miah already had Penguin and the bird’s Grundy wrapped around his pinky finger, and they weren’t leaving the room either.

And he’d planned to die at the end of his previous plan anyway. Things were looking up! Maybe his badass bouncing baby bro would be the one to pull the trigger now. That would be hilarious. Though maybe Miah wouldn’t be the one to do it. Maybe Miah would even stop it. He’d been pretty fucking sincere during their bro time, but then, Theo had seemed sincere too. 

“All right! Fries the door man!” Jerome gestured to the large gates between them and their quarry’s property. A few of Miah’s people laughed at his pun as the frost spread across the metal. Nice. It was only a few seconds before the entirety of the metal slabs were coated. “That’s it! Firebug, your turn!” It took even less time to melt the frost and heat the door to barely glowing. Jerome did a little pirouette in anticipation. “Freeze, one last time!”

Jerome hoisted his shotgun. Flame not unlike Firefly’s spread through his veins as cracks chased each other through the metal in front of him. A grin took over his face when Fries put his gun down. It stole his muscles and contorted his scars into painful twists. Jerome’s vision darkened to shades of red. This would be glorious. 

“Let’s have some McFuckin’ fun!” he laughed as he shot the gates, shattering them into thousands of miniscule projectiles hurtling towards the vanguard inside. 

It probably would have made a killer painting. The hail of bullets from inside. The bursts of fire, ice, and various flying shit from their side. Jerome was three steps in. It was an open courtyard except for created barriers of sandbags and moving crates. Ecco burst past him. She seemed to dodge the bullets she moved so quickly. A head popped up over the barrier to look. Jerome shot the stupid thug and kept moving. Ecco vaulted the wall. She slit three throats inside a second. Another woman was at her side. Marcy, Jerome thought. Red arced through the air. Yes, this scene would make a masterpiece of art. 

Someone tried to come at him from the side. “Tryin’ to be sneaky?” Jerome shot them between the eyes. With his shotgun. Their brains exploded in a miniature fireworks display. It splattered across his face. Jerome laughed. A bullet pinged off the brickwork two inches in front of him. Jerome jumped back a foot and hid behind a crate. It had come from a second story window. He was sure of that. One of Miah’s people was beside Jerome suddenly. Their sniper rifle swept upward. A body fell from a second story window. Jerome had already moved on.

He exploded another person’s brains into a macabre mural on his way around the left side of the courtyard. He needed to reload. There was no time. He spun the gun around and clubbed a thug across the temple. As they fell, he flicked out his switchblade and buried it in their eye. The fire in his veins roared higher, fueled by the liquid spurting out of the wound. He yanked the knife free. He stabbed the next person in the neck. Just like Galavan had done to him. His laughter crept higher.

His footsteps were splashing now. Was it raining? No. His pant cuffs were stained gorgeous red. There was resistance on his arm. Oh, he’d stabbed another one. He ripped the blade to the side and revelled in the crimson arc it created. 

He ducked under a spray of bullets. Then he rolled to avoid the returning fire spurt. He slit open the belly of an enemy as he came to a stand. His knife broke off in the man’s armor. Shit. It hadn’t been very good quality anyway. 

Another person was coming though. Jerome stepped to the side to avoid their gunfire. He reached into his latest victim’s not-quite-corpse and pulled out a length of intestine. Just like he’d used to dance in the circus, Jerome twirled around the latest idiot. He slung the improvised rope around the lout’s neck, and pulled. The man choked. Jerome could feel his life pulsing in his hands. Divine. Or was that the life of the man attached to the intestines? It didn’t matter. For a split second, the hair in front of him turned dark red, he was wearing glasses, and Jerome was strangling Miah. His muscles tightened, and the fire in his blood turned to lava. Jerome blinked. It was a random thug again. The man tried to point his gun backwards at Jerome. “Uh, no. tsk tsk tsk,” Jerome chuckled as he kneed the dude in the side. The soldier dropped his gun. Jerome caught it with one hand. He shot the moron in the head. Ah, the idiot had a knife on his belt. Jerome took that too. He swung around.

No further enemies approached him, and there was no sound of gunfire. “Is it over already?” Jerome asked, looking around more slowly. The only people left standing were the ones he’d come in with. That was incredibly disappointing. The only one equally covered in blood as him was the one called Marcy. Jerome was fairly certain that was her name. The Hong Konger with a mohawk. His fingers twitched. He was losing his blood high. 

“No.” It was the sniper that from earlier. Batu? She was knelt down behind a couple boxes and on top of a corpse. She was looking down her gun at the windows of the building. She didn’t have a scope. “There’s people inside. They’ve got a trap behind the doors, I think.” 

“They do huh?” Jerome couldn’t stop smiling. “Well then.” He picked up the body closest to him, which actually wasn’t the one he’d just downed. There was almost a blanket of them on the ground. How had they killed so many already? He heaved the corpse over his head, and threw it through a window. “They got a trap behind there?”

His laughter was mimicked by Batu, Ecco, and Marcy. “I don’t think so.”

Jerome extricated a fucking sub-machine gun from a dead guy. His guffaws switched to a high-pitched giggle. “Ready or not peeps~ Here I come!” He jumped through the hole. He heard the others following him. The fire came back. 

Jerome looked up from rooting around in the head honcho’s chest. He needed the heart to finish the funny joke he’d written on the wall. Unfortunately, he was starting to think he might have shredded the organ beyond recognition when he was having fun with the man anti-mortem. “Yo, I’m pretty sure the river is not supposed to be red.” 

Brian, the black dude from Miami, was in the room with him. “Oh, that’s just Kaia. Some people probably tried to escape through the water.”

Sure enough, the pacific islander’s head popped up out of the mess. Jerome waved down to her. She waved back. A leg surfaced next to her. “How’s the water?” he shouted down. 

She shrugged noncommittally, “Temperature’s fine but the plastic’s a bit much.” Jerome laughed.

“Hey, think you could toss a heart up here? I need one!”

She disappeared under the water. The next second, a small mass was shooting up into the air. Jerome caught it on the third floor balcony. It was a heart like he’d asked. Not exactly surgically removed, but gruddy would only enhance the effect. He gave Kaia a thumbs up when she surfaced a few seconds later. He was not going to put effort into thinking about how the heart got launched with that timeframe. Nimbly, he spun a penknife around his fingers as he walked over to the wall he’d written his joke on. It was a really old, overdone, and cheesy one, but Jerome felt his props put a fresh spin on it. 

“Don’t break someone’s-” Brian turned away and snorted. “Nice.”

“I know, right? It’s better with the actual parts.” Jerome leaned out the other window. He was done with his fun now, and he could feel the boredom rapidly sinking in. “Hey, how much longer are you guys gonna be?”

Typhoon looked over from where they was slightly levitating to hang a hunk of meat off a window sill. “Thirty seconds, tops.” 

Jerome whooped and started on his way out of the mansion-cum-tomb. He heard Brian call out to Kaia behind him. Firefly met him in the main hallway where the floor was suspiciously lumpy, crunched, and smelled of roast beef. “Nice work there gal.” Jerome held his hand out for a fist bump. She smirked and made the explosion effect when she reciprocated. Funny. Jerome could get used to adventures with this group. 

He sprang through the front doors and flung his arms open wide. “Come on kids! We’re off to the races, and the day’s just begun! We’ve got more houses to hit!”

* * *

Jerome only participated in the first few massacres. It got boring rather quickly. By the fourth, just the memory of the blood gushing and the feel of the flesh under his nails was doing as much for him as the actual dismemberment was. Besides, he'd gotten a call from Miah to come back to the mansion ASAP. So he hotwired a car after the fifth house and headed home. 

When he sauntered into his room (that was now, their room! Just like old times then.) Miah was at the desk in the corner, writing something when Jerome entered. He looked up. He had new glasses. That was nice. His wrist was splinted. Jerome wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Miah’s hair was finally messed up a bit, which was saying something considering it wasn’t after the literal explosion. He looked exhausted. Overall, adorable! 

Jerome grinned and skipped over to pinch his twin’s cheek. Miah jumped up and backed away from him. “Don’t touch me until after you’ve showered! You’re covered in gore!” Jerome had to laugh at Miah's prissiness. It was just blood. It wasn't like his clothes weren't already ruined from the, oh yeah, bunker bomb. He made a show of looking down and just now realizing that he was soaked.

“Oh wow! You’re right!” The blood high was still humming under his skin, and at the sight of it coating himself, it spiked for a second. Miah was still looking at him cautiously, though a bit exasperated now too. Jerome remembered Miah had that same look when the circus kids would get into a mud fight, because Miah would inevitably end up covered himself. Now that spawned a thought. Just how nice would Miah look covered in other people’s blood? His own blood? Jerome stopped himself from licking his lips. No need to make his twin panicked right now. “I didn’t notice!” he finished his speech.

“Just,” Miah pinched the bridge of his nose, and wasn’t that cute. “Go clean up.” Jerome humored him only because the blood and mess was cooling down and coagulating, and it really was getting uncomfortable. Maybe he’d bring Miah along to the next fight to get his musings answered. 

So Jerome shrugged and skipped to the bathroom, purposely landing harder than necessary on each step, just to knock globs of gore onto the floor and piss Miah off. “What didcha want me back here for?” Jerome called over his shoulder. He didn’t bother to shut the bathroom door. He looked to see Miah as he responded. Aw, his little bro was pointedly looking away, the prude.

“I don’t trust Tetch.” 

Jerome raised his eyebrows and pulled off his shirt. There Miah went stating the obvious again. “Well duh. What idiot would?” 

He could sense Miah’s eyeroll. “I still need to ensure his cooperation though, and I have a plan for that.” Jerome smirked as he finished disrobing.

“And you need me for that,” he leaned on the door frame. Miah shot him a glare before blushing and immediately looking away from him. That was the most endearing thing Jerome had ever seen. Jerome laughed. “I’m flattered.”

Miah grit his teeth audibly. “I do not need you for it.” A pause and Jerome turned the water on. “But.” Jerome tilted his head, waiting for Miah to spit it out. “I would feel much more comfortable with you present.” Jerome’s brain worked overtime, figuring out what made that so hard for Miah to sa-

“I make you feel safe!” Jerome grinned more genuinely than he could remember doing in, ever really. 

“No that is not true! I just know you’ll eviscerate anyone who tries to harm me.” That did not help his case. At all. And Miah seemed to realize that after he said it if his further reddening face was any indicator.

“And that makes you feel safe with me!”

Miah slammed the bathroom door. “Just take your shower!”

Jerome took his shower. It had been so long since his presence actually made someone feel safe. It had been almost as long since the norm became the opposite. The circus people hadn’t trusted him since he pulled his first prank. Sure he’d had charisma, been able to charm a lot of strangers for a short time, but it had been temporary. As soon as they got a glimpse of the real Jerome, they got scared. And after the scars, oh, after the scars, the only things he inspired were fear, disgust, and wary respect. Sure, he could create toys. Manipulate a dependency into existence through pain and relief thereof, but that took time. And it was fake.

He’d nearly crushed Miah’s wrist this morning. He’d put a knife to his throat. He hadn’t apologized. He hadn’t blamed Miah for making him do it. He hadn’t used that to try to manipulate him. By all rights Miah should only have those three common emotions towards Jerome.

And Jerome made Miah feel safe. 

Jerome giggled. For a moment, he pondered how he could use that to manipulate Miah. Miah was certainly manipulating him already. That was how his broski worked and Jerome loved it. He threw thought away for now. Miah was already seeking him out, already had these actual emotions for him. Jerome’s chest was tight, and even though it had been so, so, so long since he had last felt it, Jerome recognised the pulling, tugging, yearning for what it was. Hope. 

_ The world doesn’t care about you, or anyone else Jerome. Better to realize that now. _

But he didn’t need the world to care about him. Didn’t want it to really. What was more annoying, what was more venomous, than something you hated caring about you? 

But Jerome could live with Miah caring. If it was just Miah, and if he did care, Jerome could live with that. 

His hair was still dripping when he exited the bathroom. Miah was sitting at the desk again and didn’t look up. Oh fuck yes. Jerome plopped his head on Miah’s shoulder. The shout of indignation he was expecting didn’t come. Instead, Miah tensed up completely for a good five seconds, then all at once relaxed and, “I hate you.”

Jerome thanked whatever deities were out there, cause hey, the Greeks were real apparently, that he recognised that tone from his childhood. That was Miah’s “This prank annoys me but somehow makes me happy because it’s you” voice. Jerome awkwardly crouched down to sling his arms around Miah’s waist. 

“Hey, it’s not blood.” And there went Jerome, thinking about what it would be like if it  _ was  _ blood seeping into Miah’s button up.

“I hate that that is actually a legitimate comfort.” Jerome laughed at Miah’s denial. What Miah hated was that he couldn’t actually complain right now. 

Jerome looked down at what Miah was sketching. A maze. Of course. “So what’s this about not trusting The Mad Hatter and me making you feel safe?” 

Miah set the pencil down.

“I can commune with the dead. That’s my main ability from Oracle.” Jerome froze. No. Fucking. Way. “If I become the link between Tetch and his dead sister, he will become unwaveringly loyal to us.” Unwaveringly loyal to you, Jerome absently fixed in his head. He could talk to the dead? Why hadn’t he talked to Jerome? “The only problem is it takes a lot of effort, and the longer I hold the connection, the more out of it I’ll be afterwards.”

Jerome tilted his head. Miah was doing his best to watch Jerome’s face from the corner of his eye. That was precious. “I’ll basically become more and more hypothermic, and if I push it long enough, I’ll start bleeding.”

Jerome had to admit he was intrigued. “Oh?” Again, he was thinking about Miah with blood on him. Why did this keep coming back? Jerome had never had acceptable thoughts, but he knew where they came from. This was probably just cause of the incident during the bloodbath earlier. It’d go away.

“From the eyes, ears, nose, not much but it’s a sign that I’m close to buckling.” Miah shifted suddenly enough that Jerome’s chin slid off his shoulder and Miah could make real eye contact with him. “I’ll be incapacitated and need you to carry me back here for the reliable hot water bottle and blanket treatment.”

Jerome remembered the times they’d had to use it, enough for it to earn the moniker ‘reliable’. Funny, it had usually been him who had to be warmed up. Then again, “You’re telling me you can talk to dead people, but it makes you deader?” Jerome let his voice climb into manic excitement. He’d always loved irony. It was one of the purest forms of humour. And it was normally paired with schadenfreude, which just made it better. “That’s fuckin’ rich.”

Miah pursed his lips. “Yes, go ahead and laugh. I still need you to do this for me.” Jerome straightened up and slapped Miah on the shoulder. 

“Don’t worry broski, I will.”

“Good. It’s already set up and I doubt Tetch has left the room to wait.”

Jerome was expecting a full Hollywood movie set for what Miah called a Séance. Unfortunately what he got was a small table with two chairs on either side of it, Tetch already occupying one of them, plus a chair in the corner. He guessed the chair in the corner was his. “Disappointing.”

Miah raised his eyebrows at him. “What were expecting? A ouija board?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Miah blinked before promptly ignoring him.

“Might the both of you digress? We are, I think, ready for the process?” Tetch was leaning forward in his seat, knees bouncing slightly. 

“Yes,” Miah answered, a little quickly if you asked Jerome. Did he not enjoy the rhymes? Miah sat down in the last chair and reached his hands across the table. Tetch grabbed them almost faster than a viper could have. “Okay.” Miah breathed out harshly. “Just think of Alice.”

“I will.” The lack of a rhyme was more telling than any other part of this. Jerome leaned forward. 

Miah sucked in a large breath. The temperature of the room dropped at least two degrees, immediately. A shiver ran down Jerome’s spine. It wasn’t fear, he knew that. It was different. Miah’s mouth dropped open slightly and a voice came out that wasn’t his. “ _ Alice _ .” Oh Jerome did not like that. His torso started to sway from side to side, and Jerome was honestly ready to call this whole thing off now.

Then Miah snapped his eyes open, and they weren’t right. Their shade was a pale, electric green and they almost glowed. “ _ I’m here. _ ”

And she was. The figure of a girl in a blue and white dress and a sluggishly bleeding hole through her stomach stood directly behind Miah. Jerome felt his jaw drop. The shiver in his spine increased tenfold. So this was what the presence of the dead felt like. Cool, but not cool enough for a repeat experience to be welcomed. 

“Alice! My darling! My palace! My heart strings! I have found you again! Tell me you missed me in the spirit glen!” 

Well this was heartwarming. Another reunion of siblings. 

“No!”

Or maybe not. Goody. It’d be interesting then.

“No you can’t! This can’t be happening! I was finally free of you!” Alice was looking more and more disturbed as she talked. Her hair was floating around her head by the end of her speech.

Tetch shook his head, not willing to comprehend that Alice might not be as happy a sibling as Miah was. Jerome was lucky in that one regard. Thinking of, Jerome looked back at Miah. He seemed more lucid than a few seconds ago, so that was good. He was still staring into the middle distance though. Jerome didn’t know what this was supposed to look like. Why hadn’t Miah invited Ecco? She probably knew how this was supposed to go down. Oh and now Jerome was jealous. He didn’t have time for that right now. He squashed it. He could duke it out with the minx later. 

“What do you mean? Free of me? But Alice we love each other! Are you not overjoyed to see your brother?” Tetch was gripping Miah’s hands rather harshly. Jerome made a note to check for blood afterward. Tetch’s loyalty wouldn’t fucking matter if he harmed Jerome’s sibling.

The returning voice had a shrill, echoing quality to it, like when a cord for the audio shifts in its jacket. Alice started to glow with the same light Miah’s eyes had. “Love you? You tortured me! I spent my whole life trying to get away from you! And now I have to spend my death doing it too?” The lights flickered above them as she screamed and Miah jerked. A drop of blood slipped out of his eye. Jerome couldn’t look away. The liquid reflected the supernatural glow in the room like it was a professionally cut gem.The darkness of it paled the skin of Miah’s face further and Jerome yearned to reach out an-

“No-” Tetch didn’t get to keep talking, or rather Jerome never heard it. Alice overpowered the sound. 

“I spent my last breathing moments trying to get out of your hands, and you know what? When I fell and landed on that fucking pipe I was relieved! I was happy I didn’t have to run from YOU!” Her voice shrieked on the last word and a cracking sound joined it. White surged out across Miah’s skin from his right eye. A tiny webwork of lines like lightning. It underlaid the red trails that were steadily dripping now. Jerome couldn’t move to stop it anymore than he could stop himself from killing someone. “ANYMORE!” Another cracking sound. More white lines.

“Alice stop-” 

“NO!” crack. “I am NEVER!” crack. “Going to exist in FEAR!” crack. “Of YOU!” crack. “You can’t FUCKING!” crack. “HYPNOTIZE” crack. “ME!” crack. “NOW!” crack. “And you can’t keep me here EITHER!” crack.

A wind popped up in the room and Miah’s body jerked again, some of the glow diminishing from his eyes and growing around Alice. The breeze quickly centered on the dead girl, whirling into a tornado. And then she was gone, the lights were back to normal, and the temperature rose. The shiver vanished.

Jerome sprang forward to catch his twin as he fell forward, and to get a hand on his cheek to prop his head up. Miah had told the truth. His skin was clammy and cold to the touch, and tiny crystals of frost perched on his eyelashes. His lips were blue. His eyelids fluttered. “Jerome?”

Miah’s voice was scratchy, like he’d been the one to do the screaming. “Yeah, it’s me Miah. Come on.” He put Miah’s arms over his own shoulders and tried to get a grip on his thighs. 

“She was hard. Kept fighting.”

Yeah Jerome could have told him that. Miah’s eyes closed and he slumped completely in Jerome’s arms. Jerome cradled his head with his hand and really looked, in the regular light of fluorescents. The upper half of Miah’s face was paper white, with little jagged scratches reaching partway down his neck. He was still crying blood, and with his face now pointed at the ceiling, the liquid started new tracks down the side of his face. Jerome gave into the temptation and dragged a finger through it. Unlike his skin, it was still warm. Aside from that spark of warmth, Miah looked like a corpse. Like in talking to them, he had joined the dead. He was beautiful. Jerome’s breath caught. 

As wonderful as the image was though, Jerome didn’t actually want it to become literal. Miah had said to warm him up after. He scooped his brother up, tucking his nose into Jerome’s neck where it was warm. Bodyheat would help while Jerome got him to the bed and nest of blankets. It didn’t hurt that he could feel the blood smearing onto his own skin now either.

As he turned around, Jerome noticed Tetch staring silently at the wall. Shit, things not going very smoothly might have the opposite effect that Miah wanted. Tetch could get resentful. Jerome had a tried and true method of manipulating and getting others to do what he wanted, and comforting was not a part of that. Miah shivered. Jerome guessed he could try to salvage the gig, for the passed out lunk in his arms. “Hey, just cause she was a bitch,” immediate anger from Tetch. Heh, yup, could have predicted that. Again, this was not his forte. But Jerome had never known when to stop before and he never would. “It doesn’t mean you’re up shit creek. Miah’s a bitch sometimes too and look.” Jerome hefted his twin higher for a second to emphasize that he got to hold Miah, and that Miah fucking trusted him to. 

And just like that, a switch flipped, and Tetch was smiling. Maybe Jerome should go into the business of comforting people if he was that good at it. Nah. Too boring. 

“My life without Alice was so grim.” Tetch was staring at Miah’s mop of hair. Jerome got ready to reach for his knife because that was not a healthy amount of respect in the Hatter’s eyes, and Miah was Jerome’s. “What can I do to help him?”

Well, it would help to have another set of hands, as long as he didn’t actually touch Miah again. “Get a bowl of hot water and a rag from the kitchen.”

Jerome didn’t wait for his response. Just left. He’d dawdled enough. The walk through the hallways was torturous. The cold of Miah’s torso got less and less amusing every second. Jerome actually stopped to check for a pulse at one point.

Then, when Jerome attempted to lay Miah down in their bed, Miah moved. With a tiny whine, miah clenched his arms around Jerome with less strength than a fucking newborn, and shoved his nose further into Jerome’s neck. Despite the freezing temperature of the koala on him, Jerome’s chest got warmer. 

Tetch walked into the room at the same time Jerome’s phone went off. It was Greg, the inmate he’d put ‘in charge’. “Keep his head warm,” Jerome instructed Tetch as he finally got Miah untangled from himself. He answered the phone, prepared to add Greg to his hit list if it wasn’t an emergency. 

“James Gordon is here.” 

Jerome blinked. The pig was alive then. Jerome was in too good of a mood to pass this up, but. He looked at Miah, the reason for his happiness. Jerome was not about to leave him alone with Tetch. His fingers were clenching around the phone at the mere thought of it. Movement caught his eye. 

Jerome watched the white marks disappearing back into Miah’s skin. In less than ten seconds, they had completely gone. Jerome put the back of his hand against Miah’s forehead. It was already significantly warmer than before. That might have been because of Tetch’s religious ‘warm water dry towel warm water dry towel’ motions that he had already repeated five times, but it gave Jerome the excuse he needed. 

He bundled Miah back up to him and stood to walk to the security room. “Come on Tetch, Jimbo’s at the door.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jerome and Jeremiah: a joy to write  
> Tetch: I hate it. I hate it so goddamn much. Do you know how many times I used rhymezone over the past few days? This man needs to die. I'll just have Ivy do the mind control. If you like this dude raise a hand in the comments or I'm killing him off. (no hate to the character. Tetch amuses me greatly in the show, but writing him is a fucking chore)  
> Also, my keyboard might be limited as fuck, but I have figured out how to add accents to my work. You just type the word without accents into google search, and copy and paste what comes up. I am in college for a computer science major. I swear.

**Author's Note:**

> Does anything not come across well? Anything confusing? Please let me know I am a baby writer and don't really know how to make sure the ideas that are so clear in my head, are actually translating to the page.  
> Leave a comment if you really liked it please!


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